
■zj 



THE 

SCIENCE AND ART 



OF 



ELOCUTION AND ORATORY 



CONTAINING SPECIMENS OF 



THE ELOQUENCE OF THE PULPIT, THE BAR, THE STAGE, THE 
LEGISLATIVE HALL, AND THE BATTLE-FIELD. 



IN THREE PARTS. 

PART I- THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC; PART II- RHETORICAL, CLAS- 
SICAL AND POETICAL: PART ILL- COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 



BY WORTHY PUTNAM, 

PEOFESSOE OF THE SCIENCE OF ELOCUTION, AND PEACTIOAL IN9TEUOTOE IN THE AET. 



'There's a charm in Oratory, a magical art, 
That thrills like a kiss from the lips to the heart"— Jfrs. Wdby. 



AUBURN AND BUFFALO: 

MILLER, ORTON & MULLIGAN, 

1854. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight himdred 

and fifty-four, 

BY MILLER, ORTON & MULLIGAN. 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Northern District of New York. 



AUBURN : 

MILLER, ORTON & MULLIGAN, 

8TEEEOTYPER8 AND PRINTERS. 



PREFACE 



This book must speak for itself. It has been prepared at 
the request of many teachers, public speakers, and others inter- 
ested in the author's entertainments, lectures, and teachings. It 
is the result of long and patient investigation of the art and sci- 
ence of reading and speaking. The author humbly trusts that 
his experience as a teacher of Elocution, has enabled him to pro- 
duce a work, so true to nature and so practical, as to make it 
the interest and pleasure of teachers and students, readers and 
speakers, to welcome it as a teacher and friend. 

Reading and speaking are arts — great, noble, intricate arts. 
The mind plays upon nature's organs, but science must tune 
them; and consequently the speaker gives tones and expression 
to thought, corresponding with the amount and quality of in- 
struction. 

My friends, you are charmed with elegant speaking or read 
ing. You devoutly desire such accomplishments. Come, then, 
irouse your energies ; open this book, and acquire a treasure 
more noble, more enduring, than the wealth of Golconda or 
California — the treasure of cultivated thought, emotion, and 
speech. Thought is an immortal action of mind, but confined 
to the individual being ; speaking is thought with a momen- 
tum, a noble, philanthropic action, that, like the sun, scatters its 
beams of light broadcast, to cheer and bless mankind. 

By attending with an energy of purpose and action to the 
scientific part of this work, you can learn the true elements of 



IV FKEFACE. 



; discipline your articulation ; create a musical and pow- 
erful voice ; improve your health ; regulate your gestures and 
attitude ; fortify yourself with confidence ; and gain a clear 
and definite knowledge of the philosophy of reading and speaking. 

In the Rhetorical and Classical department for practical deliv- 
ery, you are furnished with ample means for regulating your 
style of expression, as well as with the loftiest aspirations of 
genius. Your deepest affections and tenderest sensibilities will 
be reached, while you may continually indulge by the way in 
the noblest inspirations of thought. 

In the Comical and Musical part, many a moral is enforced, 
many a deep impression is given, and many a lesson of wis- 
dom is imparted through the medium of a hearty laugh, or by 
the smiles and sparkles of wit and humor. 

To the youth whose generous and noble natures aspire to 
happiness, usefulness, and honor, the author tenders this work. 
They have so universally met him with kindness and confi- 
dence, as their teacher and friend, in the various institutions of 
learning, in which he has given lessons and lectures, as to en- 
list in their behalf his best energies, and make the desire to ad- 
vance them "onward and upward," a part of his being. 

To teachers, public speakers, and others of literary and 
classical taste, the author submits this book, and is cheered 
with the hope of their kind consideration and generous approval. 

The Author. 



CONTENTS. 



PART I, THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 






PAGE. 


Salutatory Dialogue, ..... 


. 13 


Lecture, ...... 


15 


Elocution as a Science, . . • . 


. 16 


The Voice, ...... 


16 


The Organs of the Voice, .... 


. 16 


The Organs of Speech, .... 


11 


Can Elocution be taught ? ... 


. 11 


Expression, . . . 


18 


Characteristics of Heading and Speaking, 


. 19 


Articulation, ..... 


19 


The Elementary Sounds, ■ . 


. 20 


Examples for Practice in Difficult Articulation, 


21 


Pitch, ....... 


. 25 


Time, ...... 


26 


Force, . 


. 21 


Rising Inflection, ..... 


28 


Falling Inflection, ..... 


. 29 


Circumflex, ..»••• 


80 


Monotone, ...... 


. 81 


Emphasis, . ..... 


82 


Quantity, ...... 


. 33 


Modulation, ..... 


84 



VI CONTENTS. 






PAGE. 


Quality, ..... 


. 35 


Irony, ... . 


37 


Rhetorical Pause, • • . 


. ' 38 


Tremor, . . . . . 


39 


Climax, ...... 


. 40 


Styles of Reading and Speaking, . . 


41 


Grammatical Style, . . . . . 


. 41 


Rhetorical Style, .... 


42 


Reading, ..... 


. 44 


The Five Rules of Reading, 


. ' 45 


Rule for Reading Poetry, . . , 


. 45 


Attitude and Posture for Reading, , 


46 


Directions for Exercise in Reading, . , 


. 46 


Attitude, ..... 


47 


Gesture, . . , 


.48 


Specimens for Reading and Speaking, 


51 



PART II. RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL. AND POETICAL. 



Elocutionary Entertainments, 

Jenny Lind's Greeting to America, • 

Oratorical Action, 

New England I love thee, . 

Nature and Nature's God, 

Ladies should study Elocution, 

Apostrophe to Spring, 

Importance of the Diffusion of Knowledge, 

Woman, .... 

Ossian's Address to the Sun, . 

Where is the Spirit-land? 

The Progress of the Mechanic Arts, 



Dr. Channing. 


61 


Bayard Taylor. 


62 


Forclyce. 


0o 


Anonymous. 


64 


do. 


65 


Mrs. Sigoumey. 


66 


Miss M. M. Davison. 


67 


Horace Mann. 


69 


R. H. Townsend. 


73 


. 


74 


Mrs. Hemans. 


75 


Webster. 


76 



CONTENTS. 


vii 




PAGE. 


To Mary in Heaven, • 


Burns. 78 


Influence of National Glory, 


Clay. 79 


The Needle, . 


Woodwortk. 81 


Evils of Ignorance, 


Horace Mann. 82 


The Ocean's Power, 


Byron. 87 


Tell's Address to the Mountains, 


Knowles. 89 


Tribute to the Talents of Chatham, .. 


Wirt. 90 


The Rainbow, .... 


Campbell. 92 


The Moral Effects of Intemperance, 


. Beecher. 94 


Cato's Soliloquy on Immortality, 


Addison. 95 


The Wife, .... 


Irving. 96 


The same Subject Concluded, 


. Irving. 100 


Hope Triumphant in Death, . 


Campbell. 104 


The Chamber of Sickness, (two voices,) . 


• Anonymous. 106 


Eulogy on South Carolina, 


Hayne. 107 


Eulogy on Massachusetts, 


Webster. 109 


The Yulture and the Captive Infant, 


Anon. Ill 


Marco Bozzaris, .... 


Hallech 112 


Character of Clay, . . . 


Seward. 114 


Rienzi's Address to the Men of Rome, 


Miss Mitford. 116 


Soliloquy from Manfred, . 


Byron. 118 


Bunker Hill Monument, 


• Webster. 120 


The Voices at the Throne, 


Anon. 122 


Burr and Blennerhassett, 


Wirt. 124 


The Battle Storm, 


Shakspeare. 126 


Satan to his Legions, 


Milton. 127 


The Criminality of Dueling, 


Dr. Nott. 128 


Thanatopsis, 


Bryant. 129 


Farewell to Hungary, 


Kossuth. 132 


Pulpit Eloquence, 


Mrs.Welby. 134 


Tragic Fate of Eliza, 


Darwin. 138 


Funeral Oration — Death of Clay, 


. Rev. Dr. Butler. 140 


The Grave, (two voices,) • 


• Karamsin. 142 



Vlll 



CONTENTS. 



A Voice for War, 

The Gathering Storm of the American 

The Missionary's Farewell, 

The Young Mariner, . 

"Webster's Tomb, 

A Mother's Lore, 

Warren's Address, 

Liberty and Union, 

Resignation, . . • 

Prayer to Light, 

Scene in a Madhouse, 

Execution of Madame Roland, 

Lord Ullin's Daughter, 

Eulogy on Hamilton, . 

Battle of Warsaw, 

Emmet's Last Speech, 

Antony's Oration over Caesar, 

False and True Energy, 

Rum' 8 Maniac, 

Scene at the Great Natural Bridge, . 

A Word in Kindness, 

Man and Woman, 

Speech of Black-Hawk, • 

Speech of Red-Jacket, 

Speech of Logan, . 

The Orphan Sisters, . . • 

Description of Byron, 

John Adams and the Declaration, 

Dream of Darkness, 

Speech in Defense of Orr, 

Victim Bride and Miser, 

The Wilderness of Mind, 

The Famine iu Ireland, 



PAGE. 

Addison. 143 

Revolution, P. Henry. 144 

. 8. F. Smith.' 147 

Dimond. 148 

Tefft. 150 

Anon. 151 

Pierpont. 152 

Webster. 153 

Milton. 155 

Mrs. Be Kroyft 156 

Lewis. 157 

Lamartine. 159 

Campbell. 162 

. Mason. 164 

Campbell. 165 

167 

Shakspeare. 169 

Wirt. 172 

Dr. Nott. 174 

. Burritt. 179 

Anon. 183 

Montgomery. 184 

• 185 

187 

. 189 

Anon. 190 

Pollok. 191 

. Webster. 193 

Byron. 195 

. Curran. 197 

Anon. 199 

Osborne. 200 

. Prentiss. 201 



CONTENTS. 



IX 



Woodman Spare that Tree, 

Employment of Indians in "War, 

Casabianca, 

Appeal against Blake, 

The Dying Christian, 

Advantages of Education, 

Look Aloft, 

The Good Wife, 

Endearing Thoughts, 

The Lore of Home, 

Speak Gently, 

The Ocean Storm, 

The Old Oaken Bucket, 

William H. Seward. 

A Sacred Memory, 

Eulogy on Webster, 

Remember Me, 

Civil and Religious Liberty, 

Cassius against Cassar, 

Horace Greeley, 

Tell on the Alps, 

Fugitives from Justice, 

The Groves God's first Temples, 

Archimedes, 

Parrhasius and the Captive, 

Character of Pitt, 

The Quality of Mercy, 

Reply to Mr. Corry, 

The Universal Prayer, 

Character of Bonaparte, . 

God Giveth all Aright, 

The Miseries of War, 

The True Greatness of our Country, 

A* 



PAGE. 

Morris. 202 

Chatham. 203 

Mrs. Eemans. 205 

Phillips. 207 

Pope. 208 

. Phillips. 209 

J. Lawrence, Jr. 210 

Geo. W. Bitmap. 211 

Anon. 212 

. Webster. 213 

Anon. 214 

do. 216 

Woodworth. 217 

Bungay. 218 

Wm. Leggett. 220 

Rufus Choate. 221 

Moore. 222 

H. W.Beecher. 223 

Shakspeare. 225 

Bungay. 227 

Knoioles. 228 

H. W. Beecher. 231 

Bryant. 232 

Winthrop. 235 

Willis. 237 

Grattan. 240 

Shakspeare. 242 

Gratian. 242 

Pope. 244 

. Phillips. 246 

Mrs. Lloyd. 247 

. Chalmers. 249 

Seward. 250 



X CONTENTS. 

Educate the People, 

The Sea and its Dead, 

The Price of Eloquence, 

New England and the Union, 

Daniel Webster's Style, 

Farmers, 

The Mayflower, 

Call to Liberty, 

Appeal in behalf of American Liberty, 

Eulogy on John Quincy Adams, 

French Aggressions, 

Eeply to Walpole, . 

The Idiot's Trial, 

The Wrongs of the Indian, 

The Tomahawk Submissive to Eloquence, 

The Murderer's Secret, 

Character of Washington, 

The Wreck of the Arctic, 

The Liberty of the Press, 

The Public Informer, 

Irish Emancipation, 

Church and State, 

Temptations of Large Cities, 

The Sword and the Press, 

Worth makes the Man', 

Influence of Internal Improvements, 

Specimen of the Eloquence of James Otis, 



TAGE. 

. Macauley. 251 

Chapin. 254 

. C. Coltori. 257 

Prentiss. 259 

Whipple. 260 

Seward. 262 

Everett. 263 

Warren. 265 

Story. 266 

Seward. 261 

Paine. 269 

. Pitt. 270 

Seward. 272 

Story. 273 

Neal. 275 

Webster. 276 

. Phillips. 278 

H. W. Bcccher. 280 

Phillips. 283 

Cur ran. 284 

do. 286 

Phillips. 288 

Dewey. 289 

Carlyle. 292 

Penn. 293 

Seward. 295 

299 



PART III. COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 

The Whiskers, or the Power of Fashion, . Woodworth. 301 

The Quiet Mr. Smith, . . . Fanny Fern. 304 



CONTENTS. 




PAGE. 


Caudleology, . 


Jcrrold. 


305 


Pleading at the Bar, 


. Partington. 


308 


Phaethon, or the Amateur Coachman, 


J. G. Saxe. 


310 


Hodge and the Vicar, 


Anon. 


313 


Love, Murder, and Matrimony — almost, 


do. 


315 


The Modern Belle, 


Stark. 


317 


An Old Maid's Decision, 


Fanny Fern. 


318 


Sour Grapes, . 


Anon. 


320 


Tragic Fate of Mrs. Caudle, 


do. 


321 


Lament of a Young Lady, 


. do. 


323 


The Old Bachelor, by a Mad Poet, . 




324 


"Woman designed to be Admired and Married, 


Anon. 


325 


A Political Stump Speech, 


Swipes. 


329 


The Little Orator — a Parody, 


Anon. 


331 


Soliloquy of a Housemaid, 


Fanny Fern. 


332 


The Cold Water Man, 


J. G. Saxe. 


333 


Toby Tosspot, .... 


Coleman. 


335 


Pay the Printer, . 


Dow, Jr. 


331 


Lecture on Matrimony, 


Fanny Fern. 


338 


Speech at a Debating Society, 


Anon. 


340 


Scene on the First Day of April, 


Buffalo Courier. 


341 


John Thompson's Daughter, 


Anon. 


343 


Address to Young Ladies, 


Dow, Jr. 


245 


Soliloquy of Single Gentleman, 


Anon. 


346 


Raps on the Lapstone, 


Bungay. 


347 


Lecture on California, 


Dow, Jr. 


348 


One Good Turn deserves Another, 


Mrs. Gilman. 


350 


Orator Puff, .... 


Anon. 


351 


The Graham System, 


do. 


352 


Made to Sell, .... 


do. 


354 


The Madman and his Razor, 


do. 


356 


Firm Resolution, 


do. 


357 


Coquetry Punished, 


do. 


358 



XU CONTENTS. 








PAGE. 


Marriage, pro and con, 


. Anon. 


361 


Account of a Bachelor, 


do. 


363 


Rhyme of the Rail, 


J. G. Saxe. 


364 


Reading with Spectacles, 


Anon. 


360 


A Frenchman in Trouble, 


do. 


368 


Sam Smith's Soliloquy, 


Fanny Fern. 


370 


The Man and his Two "Wives, . 


Lefever. 


371 


The Brewer's Coachman, 


Taylor. 


373 


The Old Hat, .... 


Anon. 


373 


Doctor and Pupil, 


do. 


376 


Address to Dr. Moyce, by the Ladies, 


, 


378 


A Deceiver Deceived, 


Hall. 


379 


Captain Tackle and Jack Bowlin, 


• Anon. 


385 


Robin Roughhead, 


Allingham. 


390 


Ollapod and Sir John Cropland, 


Gohnan. 


394 


Prince Henry and Falstaff, 


Shakr.peare. 


396 


Diamond cut Diamond, 


Kenney. 


400 


The Little Rebels, 


Anon. 


402 


Canute's Reproof, 


• Aikin. 


405 


Choice of Hours, 


Mrs. Gilman. 


407 



ELOCUTION. 



PAST I. 
THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC 



SALUTATORY DIALOGUE. 

TEACHER AND PUPIL. 

Pupil. You have spoken of Putnam's Elocution as a text- 
book for reading and speaking : will our teacher have the good- 
ness to tell us something of Elocution, as a science and art % 

Teacher. I am happy, my young friends, to answer this rea- 
sonable and interesting question. Elocution is a noble and 
sublime science ; and I trust my pupils of both sexes, will take 
a lively interest in it. The work I have recommended will 
guide you to nature's teachings, make you happy in its study, 
and greatly aid you in the most important portion of your ed- 
ucation — the art of communicating thought and knowledge. 
To do this with elegance, force and effect, should be the ambi- 
tion of every reader or speaker. The advantages you may 
derive from a persevering study and practice of the science and 
art, are many and important. They may be mostly included 
in a single paragraph : 

A correct Articulation, a full musical Voice, graceful and 
appropriate Gestures, self-confidence, a reliable knowledge of 



14 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

the subject, the power to please — to persuade — to convince — 
and improved Physical Health. 

Pupil. I am very thankful for this instruction. I desire to 
study and practice an art by which I may arrive at usefulness 
and honor. But can books alone give me all the instruction I 
need in this science 1 

Teacher. They cannot. Elocution can only be written in 
part ; and Eloquence can never be placed on paper. They 
exist mostly in spirit, voice and action. The spirit of the sci- 
ence is the living teacher, and its body is the good elocutionary 
book. 

Pupil. What qualifications are important that one may be- 
come a good reader and speaker ? 

Teacher. First, a good physical organism ; second, good 
common sense ; third, a desire to excel ; and fourth, persever- 
ance in the cultivation of the powers of the body and mind. 

Pupil. Can Elocution make the orator % And what powers 
must he possess ? 

Teacher. The orator can never be made by Elocution ; yet 
it may develop great powers. He must have great natural 
endowments, great knowledge, and cultivation, such as few 
men in an age possess or attain. But be encouraged, my young 
friends, you know not the powers you may possess. This sci- 
ence will reveal them. Some of these young ladies before me, 
may yet hold thousands in breathless silence and admiration, 
by a cultivated mind and voice, displayed in reading or speak 
ing. And, young gentlemen, yours may be the high honor, 

"to stem corruption's course, 
And shake a Senate with a Tully's force." 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 15 

LECTURE. 

1. Speech is a faculty peculiar to man. Much of the en- 
joyment of rational existence is derived from the means it gives 
us of fully and freely communicating with our fellows. It 
must be obvious, therefore, that the more thoroughly that fac- 
ulty be cultivated, the more pleasure it will yield its possessor 
and the more influence it will enable him to exert upon 
others. 

2. Speaking brings into combined action the natural and ar- 
tificial manifestations of thought and emotion. The voice, 
looks, and gesture are natural language; words and characters 
are artificial. The mind is the active agent and performer ; the 
body is the passive agent and instrument. The mind must be 
cultivated, the emotions of the heart developed, and the voice 
and body tuned to the service of the mind in speech and 
action. 

3. "Eloquence may be considered the soul or animating 
principle of discourse ; and is dependent on intellectual energy 
and intellectual attainments." 

4. " Elocution is the outward form or representative power 
)f Eloquence, dependent upon exterior accomplishments, and 

on the cultivation of the organs." 

5. " Oratory is the perfect harmony and combination of Elo- 
quence and Elocution." 

6. " Logic ascertains the weight of an argument ; Eloquence 
gives it momentum, life and motion." Elocution is a vehicle 
in which Eloquence drives his spirit-steeds of action through the 
Elysian fields of thought and emotion. 



16 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

ELOCUTION AS A SCIENCE. 

1. Elocution is the art of communicating thought, 
knowledge and emotion, by the use of natural and 
artificial language. 

2. It is both a science and an art. The science includes the 
knowledge of the art ; and the art comprises the practice of 
the science. The perfection of the art enables the speaker to 
manifest his thoughts and feelings, in the most pleasing, per- 
spicuous, and forcible manner, for the high purpose of making 
others feel and think as he does. 

THE VOICE. 

1. The voice is sound produced by vibration of 
the air in its passage through the larynx — the vocal 
organ. 

2. Common observation shows, that the speaking or singing 
voice may be rendered powerful and melodious, by scientific 
training. The voice is susceptible of great cultivation. It is 
strong in proportion to the development of the larynx, the ca- 
pacity of the chest, and strength of muscle concerned in itg 
production. It is a great educational motto, that "Exercise 
strengthens every faculty of the body and mind ;" hence, the 
practicability of developing and tuning the complicated instru- 
ments of voice and speech. 

THE ORGANS OF VOICE. 

1. The larynx, with its appendages, the trachea, bronchi, 
lungs, diaphragm, intercostal, dorsal, and abdominal muscles, 
when put in action by the mind, produce that phenomenon of 
sound called voice. 



THEORETIC AKD SCIENTIFIC. 17 

2. The quality of the voice is dependent upon the cultivation 
of the organs, the purity of the air used in respiration, tempe- 
rance, the state of the skin, the absence or presence of food in 
the stomach, and the position of the body. 

3. Rest, as well as bathing and friction of the body previous 
to speaking, are important. The use of tobacco, ardent spirits, 
or food, (and especially meat,) immediately before a public ef- 
fort, acts unfavorably to the freedom and spirit of speech. 

THE ORGANS OF SPEECH. 

1. The tongue, the palate, the fauces, the uvula, the nasal 
cavities, the lips, and teeth are properly the organs of speech. 

2. Speech is voice modified by the action of these organs 
into certain forms, called words. Voice is natural, but speech 
is essentially a creature of education. Hence, the perfection 
and quality of speech depend almost entirely upon examples 
for imitation, and upon the amount and kind of training the 
organs have received. 

CAN ELOCUTION BE TAUGHT? 

1. "This question," says Dr. Rush, in his "Philosophy of 
the Human Voice," " has heretofore been asked through igno- 
rance : it shall hereafter be asked only through folly." 

2. Cicero and Demosthenes, history informs us, paid their 
thousands to masters in Elocution, and spent whole years in its 
study and practice. Eoscius acquired such a wonderful skill 
in natural language, that he could express as many passions 
and sentiments by looks and gesture, as Cicero could by words. 

3. Lord Mansfield and Lord Chatham studied Elocution in 
their boyhood, and the result was, that their melodious voices 
and graceful action held and charmed their auditors. Dean 

2 



18 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Kirwan studied closely the principles of delivery, thus convey 
ing eloquent and devout thought upon the vehicle of a raelodi 
ous voice, and varied, emphatic action. Whitfield, who warmed 
the religious heart of the New World as well as the Old, by 
his glowing eloquence, acknowledged with gratitude the bene- 
fit he derived from the lessons he took of Garrick, England's 
great tragedian. 

4. The author listened to tb.3 reading of a lady in Philadel- 
phia, who held thousands in breathless silence, or excited their 
most enthusiastic admiration, by the strangely sweet and elo- 
quent tones of her voice : 

"That voice ! O how divinely sweet : 't was like the seraph's note: 
And fairy-like, an angel form seemed in the air to float." 

The secret of that lady's success was, that she had cultivated 
her literary taste, and her voice and expression, by a long and 
persevering practice of the art of Elocution, under the instruc- 
tion of a celebrated master of the science. But we will not 
stop to note the many and memorable examples of the brill- 
iant success of elocutionary science, not only in ancient, but in 
modern times. 



EXPRESSION. 

1. This is the practical application of the principles 
of Elocution, in such a manner as to produce a natu- 
ral, clear, full, and forcible expression of thought 
and emotion, bringing out the whole sense, in the style 
of good talking. 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 19 

CHARACTERISTICS OF READING AND SPEAKING. 

1. There are sixteen distinct and peculiar attributes of 
voice and speech, that exist in the nature of things ; and with- 
out the knowledge and practice of which, no person can ever 
be a beautiful and truly effective reader or speaker. Hence, 
the knowledge and proper application of them in vocal deliv 
ery, are important to all, and indispensable to the teacher and 
public speaker. They are the following, to wit : 

1. Articulation. 9. Emphasis. 

2. Pitch. 10. Quantity. 

3. Force. 11. Modulation. 

4. Time. 12. Quality. 

5. Eising Inflection. 13. Irony. 

6. Falling Inflection. 14. Rhetorical Pause. 

7. Circumflex. 15. Tremor. 

8. Monotone. 16. Climax. 



ARTICULATION. 

1. Articulation means distinctness of utterance ; or 
it is the proper shaping out, by the organs of voice 
and speech, ev-e-ry el-e-ment, syl-la-ble, and word in 
a sen-tence. 

2. " It is to the ear of the hearer what a beautiful and dis 
tinct hand-writing is to the eye." Eloquence of thought and 
action will fail to secure the attention of an audience, without 
this attainment. It is indispensable to every good reader and 
speaker. There will, therefore, be presented in this work, am- 
ple means and examples for practice, with a view to the attain- 
ment of this important accomplishment. 



20 



ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 



3. It is a primary duty of the teacher to conduct his pupils 
(and this may be done in concert) through a series of .exer- 
cises, calculated to energize their organs of speech, and, im- 
prove their articulation. He will first give them a knowledge 
of the elements of speech, or, in other words, the simple sounds 
of which tuords are made. These are forty-one in number, six- 
teen of which are made almost entirely by the organs of 
voice; hence, they are called Vocals ; fifteen are made by the 
voice, much interrupted by the organs of speech, and are 
termed Sub-vocals ; the remaining ten elements are uttered in 
whispers, and hence are called Aspirates. They are as follows : 

THE ELEMENTARY SOUNDS. 



VOCAL* 


, 16. 


SUB-VOCALS, 15. 


ASPIRATES, 10. 


1 A as in 


a-le. 


B as in 


h-\-b. 


F as in far. 


2 A 


u 


a-rm. 


D 


a 


d-i-d. 


H " h-at 


3 A 


u 


a-11. 


G 


c< 


9-o-g. 


K " SLT-k. 


4 A 


a 


a-t. 


J 


u 


;-ar. 


P " cu-p. 


5 A 


a 


a-lr. 


L 


u 


l-o. 


S " s-in. 


1 E 


" 


m-e. 


M 


(.'. 


m-e. 


T " wi-t. 


2 E 


u 


m-e-t. 


N 


i'. 


7lO. 


TH " th-in. 


1 I 


a 


i-ce. 


NG 


u 


ao-ng. 


SH " sh-e. 


2 I 


U 


U. 


R 


a 


r-mi. 


CH " ch-uv-ch. 


1 


u 


o-ld. 


TH 


U 


th-\s. 


WH " why. 


2 


a 


x m-o-ve. 


V 


u 


v-ie. 


CORRELATIVES. 


3 

1 U 

2 U 

3 U 

1 OU 


u 
u 
a 
u 
u 


n-o-t. 

1-w-te. 

f-u-ll 

•w-p. 

ou-t. 


w 

Y 
1 Z 
2Z 


u 
u 


tv-e. 
y-ou. 
z-one. 
a-z-ure. 


ASPIRATE 

F V 
K G 
P B 
S 1 Z 
T D 


5UB-VOCALS. 

TH TH 
SH 2Z 
CH J 
WHW 



4. In the above table, every elementary sound must be 
singled out by the teacher, and then uttered by the class 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 



21 



in concert, distinctly, and with increased force and energy, 
as the organs become fitted to their enunciation. Spelling by 
the sounds should then be introduced, and practiced with per- 
severance and great care; by which means the health of the 
body will be promoted, the power and melody of the voice se 
cured, and a correct and beautiful articulation attained. 

EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE IN DIFFICULT ARTICULATION. 

1. Let the class utter distinctly the sound — element — power 
of each letter in the following combination : 



bl 


bi- 


Id 


rb 


sk 


sts 


shr 


nets 


cl 


er 


Ik 


rd 


sp 


nst 


ngd 


blst 


dl 


dr 


IP 


rk 


St 


dst 


did 


mdst 


gl 


fr 


md 


rl 


spl 


rdst 


sld 


thms 


Pi 


gr 


nd 


rm 


spr 


pld 


rbd 


spts 


si 


pr 


nk 


rp 


str 


ngs 


rmd 


ngldst 



2. After a thorough practice in the foregoing sounds, the fol- 
lowing should be pronounced as words, with great force and 
distinctness. 



helms. 


depths. 


respects. 


particularly. 


thrusts. 


spheres. 


harm'st. 


familiarly. 


shrieks. 


chasms. 


call'dst. 


specifically. 


facts. 


dwarfs. 


smil'st. 


authoritatively 


breadths. 


writhes. 


thousandth. 


unhesitatingly. 


fifths. 


wasps. 


maim'd. 


hereditatively. 


nymphs. 


shrimps. 


class'dst. 


recitatively. 


prompts. 


twelfth. 


triumph'd. 


deteriorately. 



3. After the foregoing exercise, let the following sentences, 
containing the most difficult combinations of elements, be enun 



22 ELOCUTION AND ORAT011Y. 

ciated slowly, distinctly, and energetically, taking great care to 
give outline to every element : 

1. Tlie wild beasts straggled through the deepest shade. 

2. The finest streams through the tangled forests strayed. 

3. The heights, depths, and breadths of the subject. 

4. Ice cream, not I scream; an ice-house, not a nice house. 

5. Then rustling, crackling, crashing, thunder down. 

6. The strife ceaseth, and the good man rejoiceth. 

7. He was most mindful in memory of that mysterious mummery. 

8. The rough and rugged rocks re-ar their hoary heads high on 
the heath. 

9. He had great fear of offending the frightful fugitive in his 
flight. 

10. The vile vagabond ventured to vilify the venerable veteran. 

11. We wandered where the whirlpool wends its winding way. 

12. The stripling stranger strayed straight through the struggling 
stream. 

13. The swimming swan swiftly swept the swinging sweep. 
(Swim, swam, swum! — well swum swimming swan!) 

14. Round and round the rugged rocks, the ragged rascals ran. 

15. No sheet nor shroud enshriued those shreds of shrivel'd clay. 

16. Sam Slick sawed six slim, sleek saplings for sale. 

17. Six brave maids sat on six broad beds, and braided broad braids. 

18. Amidst the mists and coldest frosts, 

With barest wrists and stoutest boasts, 
He thrusts his fists against the posts, 
And still insists, he sees the ghosts. 

4. The importance of a distinct articulation is strongly illus- 
trated by the following examples. They must be read with 
great distinctness, or the sense will not be given : 

1. His cry moved me. His crime moved me. 

2. He can pay nobody. He can pain nobody. 

5. The battle last still night. The battle lasts till night. 
4. The culprits ought to be punished. 

6. The culprit sought to be punished. 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 23 

6. He can debate on either side of the question. 
'7. He can debate on neither side of the question. 

8. They never imagined such an ocean to exist. 

9. They never imagined such a notion to exist. 

10. They discovered nought but wastes and deserts. 

11. They discovered nought but waste sand deserts. 

12. When a twister a twisting will twist him a twist, 
For twisting a twist he three times doth intwist; 
But if one of the twines of the twist doth untwist, 
The twine, that untwisteth, untwisteth the twist. 

13. Peter Prickle Prandle picked three pecks of prickly pears 
from three prickly prangly pear trees ; if, then, Peter Prickle Pran- 
dle picked three pecks of prickly pears from three prickly prangly 
pear trees, where are the three pecks of prickly pears that Peter 
Prickle Prandle picked from three prickly prangly pear trees; sue 
cess to the successful prickly prangly pear picker. 

14. Theophilus Thistle, the successful thistle sifter, in sifting a sieve 
full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles through the 
thick of his thumb ; if then Theophilus Thistle, the successful this- 
tle sifter, in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thou- 
sand thistles through the thick of his thumb ; see that thou, in sifting 
a sieve full of unsifted thistles, dost not thrust three thousand this- 
tles through the thick of thy thumb : success to the successful thistle 
sifter, who doth not get the thistles in his tongue. 

15. Thou wreath'd'st and muzzl'd'st the far-fetch'd ox, and im- 
prison'd'st him in the Volcanic Mexican mountain, of Popocatepetl, 
in Cotapaxi. Thou prob'd'st my wounds and troubl'd'st my rack'd 
ribs. Thou trifl'd'st with his acts, that thou black'n'd'st and con- 
taminated'st with his filch'd character. Thou lov'd'st the elves 
when t\\o\\ heard'st and quick'n'd'st my heart's tuneful harps. Thou 
wagg'd'st thy propp'd up head, because thou thrust' d'st three hun- 
dred and thirty-three thistles through the thick of that thumb, that 
thou cur' d'st of the barb'd shafts. 

ALPHABETICAL ALLITERATION AND ARTICULATION. 

Alderman Affluent always adjudicated with admirable ability. 
Brother Ben boldly beat, battered, and bruised the British with 
his bludgeon. 



24 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Columbus Capricorn was cross, crabbed, crooked, carbuncled, and 
crusty. 

Deborah Diligent danced delightfully with a droll and dexterous 
drummer. 

Elizabeth Edmonson cooked eleven eggs with excellent edibles. 

Frederic Firebrand fiercely fought a funny and fidgety fiddler. 

Gregory Gobbleum gaped and gabbled like a goose or gander. 

Hercules Hardhearted hit a hawk on the head with a hatchet. 

Isaac Ingham inhabited an inclement and isolated island in Italy. 

Jemima Juniper with joy did jump a jig in jeopard} 7 . 

Kate Kirkman kindly kissed her knowing kinsman. 

Lem Lawless was a loudly laughing, lounging, long, lean, lank, 
lazy Igafer. 

Maximilian Mettlesome magnanimously met a mutinous moun- 
taineer. 

Nancy IMimble, with a nice new needle, netted neat nets. 
.. Omar Overall ordered Oliver Ollapod to overawe Owen Oldbuck. 

Professor Punch and Paulina Polk performed the Patagonia polka 
perfectly. 

Quintuple Quorum quickly questioned a queer and quizzical 
quidnunc. 

Roderic Random ran a ridiculous race on the Richmond railroad. 

Sophonisba Scribble well was superlatively and surprisingly sen- 
timental. 

Theophilus Talkative told tremendous, terrible, terrific, and tragic 
tales. 

Ursula Urgent uninterruptedly and universally used an umbrella. 

Valentine Vortex victoriously vanquished a vindictive village!'. 

"Wilhelmina Whirligig warbled with winning and wonderful 
witchery. 

X-ecrable X-antippe x-hibited x-traordinary and x-cessive x-cita- 
bility. 

Young Yankee, a youthful yeoman, yawned at Yarmouth. 

Zedekiah Zigzag was a zealous zoological zoophile in the frozen 
zone. 

5. Let not the student cease to exercise his voice and or- 
gans upon the elementary sounds and numerous examples of 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 25 

difficult articulation, here presented, until his voice shall show 
a cultivation by its rich intonations, nor until his organs of 
speech have acquired a precision in articulation that shall af 
ford, not only a pleasure to himself, but secure the attention 
and admiration of his hearers. 



PITCH. 

1. Pitch of the voice in speaking, regards its de 
gree of elevation in reference to a musical scale. 

2. Nature has a peculiar pitch of voice for her passions and 
emotions. Let the attentive observer note the variations of 
pitch in the voice of the child, when speaking under the influ- 
ence of strong and varied emotion, and he will realize the truth- 
fulness of this remark. 

8. There are three departments of pitch in the human voice, 
common to both sexes, to wit : the high, the middle, and the 
low. When under the influence of strong and excited feelings, 
nature prompts us to use high notes of speech ; as in calling, 
screaming, shrieking, &c. The middle range of pitch is adapted 
to common, colloquial discourse. The low key or grave tone 
of voice is used in expressing sentiments of sublimity, awe, and 
devotion. No very definite rules can be given for its regula- 
tion in speaking. The nature of the sentiment, and discrim- 
inating taste must determine the appropriate key-note of 
delivery. 

EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE. 

High Notes. 

1. Art thou that traitor angel? Art thou he who first broke 
peace in heaven? 

2. Fire I fire ! — the boat is on fire ! 

B 



26 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Middle Range, or Common Common Colloquial Key. 

1. And thou hast walked about! — how strange a story! 
In Thebes' street, three thousand years ago. 

Low Key. 

1. Speak then thou voice of God within, thou of the deep, low 
tone. 

2. Great ocean, too, that rolled the wild, profound, eternal bass 
in nature's anthem- 



TIME. 

1. Time in Elocution is the measure of sounds in 
regard to their duration, as used in reading and 
speaking. 

2. In this department of the science examples and directions 
can only point the pupil to nature that he may learn of her, for 
she is the great teacher, guiding and regulating the movements 
of the voice, as sentiment and feeling may inspire. Devotional 
and solemn discourse requires slow movement and long quan- 
tity in the utterance ; unimpassioned conversation and narra- 
tive, a medium rate of movement ; animated description, comic 
and lively expression, sudden passion, as joy, anger, &c, pro- 
duce utterance, more or less rapid, according to the nature and 
intensity of the emotion. Let the pupil observe the impulses 
of his own feelings, and study to understand and feel the senti- 
ment he is to deliver, and nature will serve as a kind regulator 
of the movements of his voice. 

EXAMPLES. 

Quick Time. 

1. 0, come, father, come quickly, let us run — that's a good father 
— catch me one. 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 27 

Medium Time. 

1. As soon as you are capable of reflection, yon must perceive 
that there is a right and wrong in human action. 

2. Love has a potent, a magical token, 
A talisman ever resistless and true. 

Slow Time. 

1. Slowly and sadly we laid him down. 

2. 0, when shall day dawn on the night of the grave? 

3. ! I have passed a miserable night ! 

4. One dead, uniform silence reigned over the whole region. 



FORCE. 



1. Force relates to the degree of loudness and ex 
ertion -with which sounds are made in vocal delivery. 
It may be called the momentum of speech. 

2. The division of Force most practical and comprehensive, 
consists of three degrees, to wit: little, medium, and great 
force. 

3. The nature of a few sentences is such, that they should be 
pronounced with a uniform degree of force, but usually it should 
be varied during the utterance of a sentence or paragraph. 
The sentiment sometimes requires that it should be gradually 
increased or diminished during the enunciation of a sentence. 
The best general rule that can be given is, that it should be 
varied according to the sentiment and the emotion. 

4. Force, when applied to a syllable, is denominated stress. 
Stress is divided by some authors into radical, medium, final, 
and explosive. 



28 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

EXAMPLES. 

Little force. 

1. Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers. 

2. Come, then, expressive Silence, muse His praise. 

3. Awake not his slumbers, tread lightly around. 

4. His great art was to soothe, and in this, he was mild and gen 
tie as the dews. 

Medium Force. 

1. I had a dream, which was not all a dream. 

2. Music that might have charmed Calypso and her nymphs, was his. 

Great Force. 

1. Strike! till the last armed foe expires; 
Strike! for your altars and your fires; 
Strike ! for the green graves of your sires; 
God ! and your native land! 



RISING INFLECTION. 

1. The Rising Inflection ends higher than it begins ; 
always rising by a continuous slide from a grave to 
an acute tone. 

2. Inflections are natural language, that perform a very im- 
portant office in the communication of thought. 

3. The use of inflections is to show that an expression of 
sense is or is not complete. In counting five, consecutively, 
we use the rising slide until we pronounce Jive, which takes the 
falling slide, and makes the number conclusive ; thus — one', 
two', three', four', Jive"'. In this instance, the rising inflection 
makes the number to be counted uncertain, but the falling 
slide, in this and other instances, gives conclusion to the sen- 
tence and sense. 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 29 

4. The pupil must remember, that the slide of the voice on 
a word often determines the sense. For example : 

Died Abner as the fool dieth 7 ? 
Died Abner as the fool dieth\ 

In the first instance, I ask if he thus died ; in the second, I d$ 
dare it. 

EXAMPLES. 

Rising Inflections. 

1. Is there no excess of cold', none of heat to offend me 7 ? 

2. Is everything subservient', as though I had ordered all myself 7 ? 
8. Is life so dear' or peace so sweet', as to be purchased at the 

price of chains and slavery''? 

4. To purchase heaven has gold the power 7 ? 
Can gold remove the mortal hour 7 ? 
In life, can love be bought vdth gold 7 ? 
Are friendship's pleasures to be sold 7 ? 



FALLING INFLECTION. 

1. The Falling Inflection is a downward turn and 
continuous slide of the voice, ending in a lower key 
than it began. 

2. This inflection takes place when the sense is finished ; 
when an affirmation is made, or a command given ; and in all 
languages expressive of authority, boldness, energy and power. 

3. The proper use of inflections is important, as they are 
agents of thought and sense. For example, if the rising inflec- 
tion is given on the word "pauper" in the following passage, 
the sense will be totally perverted : 

4. A person who neglects his business, if he does not become 
a pauper', will not be likely to amass wealth. 



30 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

5. By the use of the rising inflection on " pauper," the pas- 
sage is made to mean, that if he should become a pauper, he 
would amass wealth — a solecism in terms. But if an intense 
falling inflection is employed on the same word, the sense is 
obvious and natural. 

ILLUSTRATION. 

Falling Inflections. 

1. Man was designed for action^. 

2. An hour passed on, the Turk awoke" ; 

That bright dream was his lasf". 

3. Read this declaration at the head of the armf. Send it to the 
public halls y ; proclaim it there'. Let them hear it who heard the 
first roar of the enemies cannori". 

4. Charge" I Chester, charge"" ! on" ! Stanley, on*" I 

EXAMPLES OF THE RISING AND FALLING INFLECTIONS. 

1. The voice must rise', then fall". 

2. Did you say high', or loui". 

3. Are the people virtuous', or vicious^ 1 . 



CIRCUMFLEX. 

1. A certain kind of emphasis, that unites the 
rising and falling inflections on one word or syllable, 
is called circumflex. 

2. This is a very peculiar and important modification of the 
voice, and holds a high rank in reading and oratory, in conse- 
quence of its great significance and power. Its office work is 
to express doubt, contrast, supposition, contempt, reproof, and 
irony. When used in the language of irony, it has the pecu 
liar property of reversing the meaning of words to which it is 
applied. 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 31 

3. For example, should a person haughtily refuse you a fa- 
vor, and should you reply in a reproving spirit—" Sir, you are 
wondrous condescending /" you would unite the inflections in 
such a manner, on " wondrous " and condescending," as to make 
those words imply very disobliging. This, then, is circumflex, 
used for the expression of irony. 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

1. I may go to-morrow, though I cannot go to-dUy. 

2. Why, sir, yon were paid to fight against Darius, not to re 
vile him. 

3. But you are very wise men, and deeply learned in the truth; 
•we are weak, contemptible, mean persons, 

4. If you said so, then I said so. 

5. Charming house ! and charming lady of the house I ha? ha I ha! 

6. They boast they come hut to improve our state, enlarge our 
thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error. 

*l. They follow an adventurer whom they fear r w8 b«rve a mon- 
arch whom we love, a God whom we adore, 



MONOTONE. 

1. The monotone in Elocution is the continuation 
of speaking, with little or no variation of pitcb. 

2. Nature has given it an exalted place in oratory, and when 
properly applied it is beautiful and effective. It has great force 
and dignity when used in the delivery of solemn, sublime, and 
devotional sentiments. Its appropriate and effective use im- 
plies a high oratorical accomplishment. But in ordinary con- 
versation, ot in colloquial reading, its use is as improper as 
would be the dinner-hom for church-music. There is only oc- 
casionally a sentence or paragraph that even sublime delivery 
requires the application of the monotone. Properly used, it 



32 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

may be compared to a wave, of the ocean, moving in majesty, 
and rolling its solemn, unvarying murmur upon the shore. 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

1. thou that roilest above, round as the shield of my fathers : 
"Whence are thy beams, sun, thy everlasting light. 

2. Mark the storm, as it nearer comes and rolls its awful burden 
on the wind. 

3. Great ocean, that rolled the wild profound, eternal bass in 
nature's anthem. 

4. He looketh on the earth and it trembleth ; he toucheth the 
hills and they smoke. The everlasting mountains were scattered, 
and the perpetual hills did bow. 

5. High on a throne of royal state, which far 
Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind ; 
Or where the gorgeous east with richest hand, 
Showers on her kings barbaric pearls and gold, 
Satan exalted sat. 



EMPHASIS. 

1. Emphasis is that peculiar stress of voice given 
to a word or words in a sentence, in order to express 
the energy and meaning of the writer or speaker. 

2. It is an impulsive agent and representative of meaning, 
as well as the distinguishing characteristic of a good reader or 
speaker. The little child and the adult talker use it with elo- 
quent effect, while the reader often totally disregards it. The 
caube of the difference seems to be, that talkers generally give 
expression from the heart, and readers, too often, from the 
mouth only. 

3. Emphasis is of two kinds, Absolute and Relative. It is 
absolute when given on account of the importance of the word 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 33 

itself; but relative, when two or more words in a sentence, ex- 
pressed or understood, are placed in contrast. 

4. Emphatic clauses are those in which every word is em- 
phatic. 

EXAMPLES. 

Absolute Emphasis. 

1. He buys, he sells, he steals, he KILLS for gold. 

2. I warn you do not DARE to insult me thus, thou slave, thou 
■wretch, thou COWARD! I will not endure this, never, never, 
NEVER ! 

3. Has the gentleman done? has he COMPLETELY done? 

4. Rise, fellow men, 'tis ROME demands your help. 

5. We must fight; I repeat it, sir, WE MUST FIGHT! 

Relative Emphasis. 

1. We were born to live, as well as die. 

2. The sun sets in the west, not in the east. 

3. We must cultivate the voice for reading, as well as singing. 

Emphatic Clauses. 

1. Why - will - ye - die ? Why - stand - we - here - idle ? 

2. By - that - dread - name, we wave the sword on high. 

3. If - Rome - must - fall, heaven and earth will witness that we 
are innocent. 



QUANTITY. 

1. Quantity consists in giving voice, swell, and 
prolongation to vocal elements in enunciation. 

2. It bears the same relation to Elocution as to vocal music, 
giving great beauty and dignity to expression. Fullness and 
quantity of voice should be given to the expression and delivery 
of dignified, solemn, grand, and devout sentiments. 

B* 3 



34 ELOCUTION AND ORATOR V. 

3. In exercising upon the following examples in quantity, 
let the student fully inflate his lungs, and then give fullness and 
length of sound to each word in italics. The difference in 
quantity in the two. following lines will be very apparent from 
the nature of the sentiment : 

O come, father, come quickly ; let us run. 
Roll on, thou deep, and dark blue ocean. 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

1. happiness, oar being's end and aim. 

2. Green be thy fields, sweet isle of the ocean. 

3. Hail, holy light ! We praise thee, Lord. 

4. thou that rollest above. The deep sea moans. 

5. Roll on, ye dark brown years. 

6. On the cold cheek of death, smiles and roses are blending. 
And beauty immortal axvakes from the tomb. 

7. Ye clouds, that gorgeously repose around the setting sun, 
Have ye a home for those whose earthly race is run ? 

8. And I heard many angels round the Throne, crying with a 
loud voice, holy! holy! holy! evermore. 



MODULATION. 

1. Modulation means a variation of the pitch of 
the voice, in reading and speaking. 

2. The importance of cultivation in this department will be 
fully appreciated by all who have had the misfortune to listen 
to those who read or speak " right on," without variation of 
tone or manner. 

3. There is not a more important requisite, in the range of 
vocal delivery, than Modulation; nothing gives stronger proof 
that the reader or speaker is master of his art ; nothing con- 
tributes more to the pleasure of an audience. A well regu- 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 35 

lated and expressive modulation gives that music and charm 
to delivery, to which the hearer will involuntarily lean his ear 
in delight. Nature seems to have designed it to mark the 
changes of sentiment, thought, and emotion, that range from 
the comic and lively, to the devotional and sublime. 

4. The change that will be made in the pitch of the voice 
and manner of delivery, is forcibly shown when you read in 
connection the following 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

1. ... 0, pretty, pretty thing; 
And will it sing, too, will it sing ? 

2. Yet, half I hear the parting spirit sigh, 
It is a dread, an awful thing to die. 

3. He whispered, in an undertone, — 

Let the hawk stoop, his prey has flown. 

4. To arms ! they come ! the Greek, the Greek ! 

5. 0, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven. 

6. The flames rolled on, he would not go 

Without his father's word: 
That father, faint in death below, 
His voice no longer heard. 
V. Who art thou whose voice I hear? 
I am the grave. 



QUALITY. 

1. Quality lias reference to the Jcind of voice with 
which, we read or speak. 

2. The human voice and the church organ may be attuned 
to the same key-note, and agree in quantity, yet each will pro- 
duce its own distinctive quality of sound. 



36 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

3. The terms nasal, smooth, harsh, shrill, orotund, &c, are 
applied to the various qualities of the voice in speaking. 

4. Nature has a representative sound in the human voice for 
the passions and emotions of the soul. She has not only a 
" voice of joy and gladness," but a quality of voice which every 
" kindred tongue " appreciates by intuition. 

5. Meanness is expressed in a nasal tone ; authority and 
command are represented in explosive, shrill notes ; anger and 
revenge by a harsh and tearing kind of voice; kindness is 
known by its sweet, soft, and mellow tones ; devotion, beauty, 
awe, reverence, and sublimity, are expressed in a deep, oro- 
tund voice. 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

1. Nasal Voice. And reckonest thou thyself with spirits of 
heaven ? 

2. Smooth Voice. Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows, 

And the smooth stream in smoother numbers 
flows ; 

3. Harsh Voice. But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, 

The hoarse, rough verse should like the torrent 
roar. 

4. Shrill Voice. The combat deepens ; — on, ye brave! 

"Who rush to glory, or the grave. 

5. Orotund Voice. Behold! how good and how pleasant it is for 
brethren to dwell together in unity. 

6. Eternity, thou pleasing, dreadful thought. 

V. The moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave, but thou 
thyself movest alone. 

8. Great ocean, that rolled the wild, profound, eternal bass in na- 
ture's anthem. 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 37 

IRONY. 

1. Irony is the exj^ression of satire by the manner 
of speaking, and not by the words employed. 

2. This has great significance and power, and justly holds a 
high rank in Elocutionary Science. There is no other manner 
of expression that carries with it such potent conviction. Ev- 
ery ironical sentiment should be ironically expressed by the 
voice, look, and action. 

3. The modification of the voice used for this expression, is 
the union of the rising and falling inflections, called the circum- 
flex. The student who desires to have at his command the 
means of effective delivery, must exercise his voice long and 
vigorously, upon words and sentences containing ironical sen- 
timent. 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

1. And this Ccesar has become a God, and Cassius a wretched 
creature. 

2. Fair sir, you spit on me on "Wednesday last; 

You spurn' d me such a day ; another time 
You call'd me — dog ; and for these courtesies, 
I'll lend you thus much moneys. 

3. They offer us their protection, and will give enlightened freedom 
to our minds. 

4. excellent interpreter of the laws! master of antiquity! cor- 
rector and amender of the constitution ! 

5. I cheerfully acknowledge my own inferiority to the honorable, 
learned, and surpassingly eloquent gentleman. Had he, in the plen- 
itude of his wisdom, compared me to the Ephraim actually named 
in the Scriptures, I could Lave borne it tolerably well ; but when 
he compared me to ether, which, if I understand it rightly, is lighter 
than thin air, it was really unendurable, and I sink under it. 



38 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

EHETORICAL PAUSE. 

1. The Rhetorical Pause consists in suspending the 
voice, either directly before or after the utterance of 
an important thought. 

2. The rhetorical pause "belongs to the higher departments 
of delivery and expression, and is not subject to grammatical 
rules. It is the result of emotion, its power being exerted 
through the eloquence of silence. 

3. This pause is most effective when connected with sub- 
jects of great magnitude. It is very eloquent, and every pub- 
lic speaker should be master of it. Garrick, England's great 
tragedian, owes much of his histrionic fame to the effective use 
of this pause. 

4. The voice must be so managed as first to create an ex- 
pectation, with the audience, of something extraordinary, and 
then — to gratify it. 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

1. "We carved not a line, we raised not a stone. 
But we left him alone | in his glory. 

2. In action, how like an angel; in apprehension, how f like a 
God. 

The dying tyrant exclaims — 

3. And now | my race of || terror |[ run ; 
Mine be the eve, |[ of tropic sun ; 

No pale gradations quench his ray, 
No twilight dews || his wrath || allay : 
With disk || like battle target | red, 
He rushes to his burning bed ; 
Dyes the wide way || with bloody light, 
Then sinks at once and all is night. 

4. That voice || that voice || I know that voice. 

5. Put out the light, and then put out the light [of life] . 

6. She's gone || I'm abused ; and my relief 
Must be to loathe her ! 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 39 

TREMOR, 

1. Tremor is a stress of voice on a vocal element, 
so repeated as to produce a tremulous movement. 

2. It is the natural indication of deep and exciting emotion. 
The tremor gives a thrilling force to the expression even of 
opposite passions, as joy and sorrow. It should never be used 
in speech, unless the passion be very agonizing or exciting. 
It may be used with great effect in song and instrumental music. 
It is said that the Irish fifers, by the use of the tremor, render 
some of their performances very exciting. 

3. That the voice may be cultivated in tremor, it should be 
strongly exercised in the tremulous movement, in both the 
rising and falling inflections, on the table of vocal elements. 

4. Tremor may be properly applied to the letters or words 
in italics in the following 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

1. 0, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven. 

2. 0, thou blasphemed, yet indulgent Lord God. 

3. She mingled her tears with the torrents that froze as they fell. 

4. thou disconsolate widow and mourner on the shores of time. 

5. Talk not of pardon there revealed ; 
No, not for me — it is too late ; 

Too late ! too late ! these tidings come* 
There is no hope. 

6. Come back, come back, he cried in grief 

Across this stormy water ; 
And I'll forgive your Highland chief:-— 
My daughter ! 0, my daughter 1 



40 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

CLIMAX. 

1. Climax in Elocution implies an increase or de- 
crease of voice, energy, animation, and pathos in ex- 
pression, corresponding with the degree and nature 
of the climax. It has two divisions — Climax and 
Anti- Climax. 

2 It is a well-settled principle of delivery, that the voice 
and action must coincide with the nature of the thought and 
emotion. 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Climax. 

1. What a piece of work is man ; how noble in reason ; how infi- 
nite in faculties ; in form and moving how express and admirable ; 
in action how like an angel; in apprehension — how like a God ! 

2. It is a crime to put a Roman citizen in bonds ; it is the height 
of guilt to scourge him; little less than parricide to put him to 
death ; — what name, then, shall we give to the act of crucifying him? 

3. The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
The solemn temples, — yea, the great globe itself. 

4. I will ascend into heaven; I will exalt my throne above the 
stars of God; I will be like the Most High! 

5. Clarence has come, false, fleeting, PERJURED Clarence. 

6. If I were an American, I would not lay down my arms — never, 
neveb, NEVER ! 

Anti-Climax. 

1. We had a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull all — to pieces. 

2. I am to exchange my kingdom, subjects, scepter, palace, jew- 
els, and name, for a little, little, obscure grave. 

3. Receding now, the dying numbers ring 
Fainter and fainter, down the rugged dell: — 

And now — 'tis silent all — enchantress, fare thee well. 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. v 41 

STYLES OF READING AND SPEAKING. 

1. The subject matter of Reading and Speaking is divided 
into two departments, the Grammatical and Rhetorical. 

2. These may be included under the 

GRAMMATICAL. RHETORICAL. 

1. Narrative, 1. Comic, 

2. Didactic, • 2. Persuasive, 

3. Argumentative, and 3. Pathetic, and 

4. Colloquial Style. 4. Sacred Style. 

GEAMMATICAL STYLE. 

1. The Grammatical department has regard, mostly, to the 
sense of what is delivered. It is to be performed in a natural 
tone of voice, with a distinct articulation, and always with a di- 
rect reference to sense, and not emotion. This style is dry and 
inanimate, yet it is applicable to most of the transactions of 
human life, notwithstanding it is the lowest department in the 
province of Elocution. 

GENERAL EXAMPLES OF THE GRAMMATICAL STYLE. 

1. Man is designed for action. Nature lias so constituted him, 
that both body and mind require daily exercise to develop their 
powers. 

2. America was discovered in the year 1492, by Christopher Co- 
lumbus, a native of Genoa — an expedition having been fitted out 
for that purpose, at his most earnest solicitation, by the Spanish 
government. 

3. A good articulation consists in a clear and distinct utterance 
of the different elements of which words are composed. 

Narrative Style. 

He advanced toward the light, and finding that it proceeded from 
the cottage of a hermit, he called humbly at the door, and ob- 



42 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

tained admission. The old man set before him such provisions as 
he had collected for himself, on which Obidah fed with eagerness 
and gratitude. 

Didactic Style. 

Do you imagine that all are happy who have attained to those 
summits of distinction toward which your wishes aspire ? Alas ! 
how frequently has experience shown, that where roses were sup- 
posed to bloom, nothing but briers and thorns grew. Reputation, 
beauty, riches, grandeur, nay, royalty itself, would, many a time, 
have been gladly exchanged by the possessors, for that more quiet 
and humble station with which you are now dissatisfied. 

Argumentative Style. 

If sensibility, therefore, be not incompatible with true wisdom, 
what just reason can be assigned, why the sympathetic sufferings 
which may result from friendship, should be a sufficient inducement 
for banishing that generous affection from the human breast? 

Colloquial Style. 

Mrs. Credulous. Are you the fortune-teller, sir, that knows every- 
thing ? 

For tune-Teller. I sometimes consult futurity, madam, but I make 
no pretensions to any supernatural knowledge. 

Mrs. C. I have come all the way from Boston to consult you, for 
you must know I have met with a dreadful loss. 

F. T. TVe are all liable to losses in this world, madam. 

RHETORICAL STYLE. 

Rhetorical delivery has a higher object then the Grammati- 
cal, and calls into action higher and cultivated powers. It 
is not applicable to composition destitute of emotion, beauty, 
or sublimity. It not only expresses the thoughts of an au- 
thor or speaker, but it demands that they be delivered with 
the force, variety, and beauty which emotion requires. 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 43 

GENERAL EXAMPLES OF RHETORICAL STYLE. 

1. By Heaven ! ye shall not die. 

2. The accusing spirit flew to Heaven's high chancery with the 
oath — blushed as she gave it in, and the recording angel, as he 
wrote it down, dropped a tear on the word, and blotted it out 
forever. 

3. Flag of the free hearts' only home ! 
By angel hands to valor given ; 
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, 
And all thy hues were born in heaven. 
Forever float that standard sheet ; 
Where breathes the foe but falls before us ?— 
With freedom's soil beneath our feet, 
And freedom's banner streaming o'er us. 

Comic Style. 

Ladies and Gentlemen: You all have probably heard of Sam. 
Foote, the comedian. If you have not, it is out of my power to tell 
you anything about him, only, that he had one leg, and his name 
was Samuel; or to speak more poetically, one leg he had, and Sam- 
uel was his name. 

Persuasive Style. 

I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose 
be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other 
possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quar- 
ter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and 
armies ? No, sir, she has none : they are meant for us ; they can be 
meant for no other. 

Pathetic Style. 

1. I long to lay this painful head 
And aching heart beneath the soil ; 
To slumber in that dreamless bed, 
From all my toil. 



44 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

2. 0, I shall never, never hear her voice; 
Spring time shall come, the isles rejoice; 
But, faint and weary, I shall meet the morn, 
And, mid the glowing sunshine, weep forlorn. 

Sacred Style. 

1. Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell 
together in unity. 

2. And I saw a great white throne, and Him who sat upon the 
throne, before whose face the earth and the heavens fled away. 

3. How beauteous are their feet, 

Who stand on Zion's hill; 
"Who bring salvation on their tongues 
And words of peace reveal. 

4. To Thee, whose temple is all space, 

Whose altar, earth, sea, skies, 
One chorus let all beings raise, 
All nature's incense rise. 



BEADING. 

1. The art of Heading consists in understanding 
and expressing thoughts, as discovered through the 
medium of artificial characters. 

2. It is an important art, and may be a great accomplish- 
ment. Its utility is beyond computation, for the reason, that 
by it we obtain nine-tenths of all the knowledge we possess. 
In talking, the thought is first presented, and produces the 
word ; but in reading the word comes first, and the thought 
must follow it. Therefore, reading is only talking from a 
booh ; and if it be made more or less than this, it is unnatural 
and repulsive. 

3. Good readers are not made by " minding the stops " and 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 45 

" inflections," as is often taught by books, and sometimes prac- 
tised in the schools ; but, on the contrary, this is a sure process 
of making mechanical readers. 

4. The " stops " are to be mainly used as grammatical guides 
to the discovery of the sense ; and the " inflections " are to be 
treated as natural agents of thought and meaning. The true 
mission of the e]ocutionary teacher is, to guide the pupil to 
nature, and make him understand and apply it. 

5. The well disciplined articulation ; the cultivated power 
and melody of the voice ; the sense understood, and talked 
right from the heart, are the sum and substance of good reading. 

6. Two questions should be continually in the mind of the 
devoted teacher of the art : 

1. Does the pupil discover the sense. 

2. Does he talk it correctly and elegantly. 

The following useful and very comprehensive rules cover the 
whole ground of the art of reading. Let them be adopted by 
every teacher and pupil. 

THE FIVE RULES OF READING. 

1. Give good Articulation. 

2. Correct Pronunciation. 

3. Mind the Sense. 

4. Eead like Talking. 

5. Be in Earnest. 

RULE FOR READING POETRY. 

Read it as though it were Prose, endeavoring to avoid the 
rhyme and measure. 



46 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

ATTITUDE AND POSTURE FOR READING. 

1. Standing erect is the most favorable, as well as the most 
manly and graceful attitude for the reader. Let the pupil stand 
evenly upon each foot, both touching, as it were, a right line 
or mark, letting the right foot toe out, the heels being sepa- 
rated about three inches. 

2. Take the book in the left hand, holding it open with the 
thumb and little finger ; let the elbow rest easily against the 
left side, and bring the book directly in front of the chest ; 
hold the head erect, and raise your book just so high as not 
to conceal the audience from your view, nor your face from 
them ; then, draw a full breath, open your mouth, and read 
" with the spirit and the understanding also." 

3. Ease of utterance, as well as gracefulness, is involved in 
these directions. 

DIRECTIONS FOR EXERCISE IN READING. 

1. " To be able to read well, is a valuable accomplishment. 
The art does not consist in giving rapid utterance to words and 
sentences, as they occur on the printed page, but in expressing 
them with that distinctness, variety, and force, best calculated 
to convey the sentiments of the writer to the understanding of 
the hearer. A good reader expresses, both in the tones of his 
voice and manner -of delivery, all the feeling, zeal, and pathos 
which the sentiment and circumstances arc adapted to inspire. 
Skill in the management of the voice is as requisite in reading 
as in singing." 

2. Let the teacher place the Five Rules for Reading on his 
blackboard ; then let him read the above paragraph five seve- 
ral times, with his attention particularly fixed, first, upon good 
articulation ; second, upon correct pronunciation; third, upon 
the sense ; fourth, upon reading it like talking ; fifth, upon 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 47 

earnestness of expression. Then let him give it the perfection 
of expression, by combining, in the reading, all the rules and 
characteristics applicable to this paragraph and style of compo- 
sition. The pupils should imitate the teacher in this exercise, 
sentence after sentence, in concert, preparatory to the indepen- 
dent reading of the same. Then, let each pupil read the exam- 
ple separately, under the kind and searching criticism of the 
instructor. This exercise, if properly conducted, will not only af 
ford pleasure, but produce great improvement. The author can- 
not too strongly recommend this manner of teaching reading, 
which he has fully and happily tested by experience. Teacher's 
motto — Not how much, but how well. 



ATTITUDE. 

1. This signifies the manner of standing in vocal 
delivery. 

2. It is natural language, that indicates qualities of the mind 
or certain stages of improvement in speaking. It is an exter- 
nal manifestation of ease, gracefulness, and confidence ; or it 
tells strongly of the want of them. A primary matter of at- 
tention, in every reader or speaker, should be a proper attitude. 

3. Let the pupil place his feet as directed for the attitude of 
reading, bearing his weight evenly on each foot, keeping the 
lower limbs straight, and the whole body erect and easy. 

4. No pupil should ever be allowed to commence reading 
or speaking, until he has placed himself in a graceful and easy 
posture. 



48 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

GESTURE. 

1. Gesture includes the various motions proper to 
be used in speaking. 

2. It is very effective natural language. Graceful and ap- 
propriate postures and gestures have great significance and 
power. Roscius could make them as effective as words. Eor 
every passion and emotion of the soul Nature has its appropri- 
ate gesture ; he, therefore, who would effectively impress others 
with his own thoughts and emotions, must carefully study and 
apply this branch of the speaker's art. 

3. The body should be held erect and easy, or moved in 
curved lines, as the impulse of thought and emotion may dic- 
tate. The principal gestures are to be made with the right 
arm ; or, when both arms are used, the motions should be ex- 
actly in unison. In gesture, the arms should reach out and 
off, freely moving in curved lines, making the shoulder, and 
not the elbow, the center of motion. 

3. The left arm may be used alone, in pointing out location 
at the left of the speaker, or in abstract ideas that lead the 
mind in that direction. All gestures, indicative of graceful, 
beautiful, dignified, or magnificent thought, should describe 
curved lines. Hogarth says the curve is the most beautiful 
line in nature, and observation confirms the truthfulness of the 
assertion. 

4. That gesture may not appear studied, mechanical, and 
ungraceful, the position and movement of the body, the limbs, 
and, indeed, the whole deportment, must be disciplined by elo- 
cutionary science, and then the well-regulated machinery of 
the body left to be moved spontaneously, by the master-spirit 
of speech — emotion. 

5. The following are a few hints from the natural language 
of gesture : 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 49 

1. The Head and Face. The hanging down of the head denotes 
shame, or grief ; the holding it up, pride, or courage. To nod forward 
implies assent ; to toss the head back, dissent. The inclination of 
the head implies bashfulness, or languor. The head is averted in 
dislike, or horror; it leans forward in attention. 

2. The Eyes. The eyes are raised in prayer. They weep in sor- 
row ; they burn in anger. They are cast on vacancy in thought ; 
they are thrown in different directions in doubt and anxiety. 

3. The Arms. The arm is projected forward in authority. Both 
arms are spread extended in-admiration. They are held forward in 
imploring help; they both fall suddenly in disappointment. 

4. The Hands. The hand on the head indicates pain, or distress ; on 
the eyes, shame. On the lips, injunction of silence ; on the breast, 
it appeals to conscience, or intimates desire. The hand waves or 
flourishes in joy, or contempt. Both hands are held supine, or 
clasped, in prayer; both descend prone, in blessing. They are 
clasped, or wrung, in affliction ; they are held forward, and received, 
in friendship. 

5. The Body. The body, held erect, indicates steadiness and cour- 
age; thrown back, pride. Stooping forward, condescension, or com- 
passion; Bending, reverence, or respect. Prostration, the utmost 
humility, or abasement. 

6. Tlie Lower Limbs. Their firm position signifies courage, or ob 
stinacy. Bended knees, timidity, or weakness; frequent change, 
disturbed thoughts. They advance in desire, or courage ; they re- 
tire in aversion, or fear. They start in terror; they stamp in au- 
thority, or anger ; they kneel in submission, and prayer. 

6. " The organs of the body must be attuned to the organs 
of the mind." The eye and gesture must often coincide in the 
same line of direction, producing, at times, the magical effect 
of making the audience see (by the eye of the mind) the loca- 
tion pointed out, and the scenery described. Take the follow- 
ing example, and apply the above rule to its delivery : 

Yon eagle, ah ! how joyously he soars up to the glorious heavens: 
the bird of liberty ; the bird of America ! 

C 4 



50 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

His throne is on the mountain top, 
, His fields, the boundless air ; 
And hoary peaks, that proudly prop 
The skies, his dwellings are. 

7. The gestures must be appropriate to the sentiment, and 
follow, hand in hand, with the tracery of the thought. Let the 
following illustrations be recited with this view : 

1. See through this air, this ocean, and this earth, 
All matter quick, and bursting into birth, 
Above, how high progressive life may go, 
Around, how wide, how deep extend below. 

2. Sometimes 

He scours the right hand coast, sometimes the left ; 
Now shaves with level wing the deep, then soars 
Up to the fiery concave towering high. 

8. First, then, there must exist in the mind the clearly de- 
fined, great, good, or beautiful thought. 

9. Second, there must be given the proper sound, look, and 
gesture to that thought. 

10. Third, the breathing forth of the soul, through the whole 
outward man, all his powers harmoniously blended in action, 
gives 

"That charm to delivery, that magical art, 
That thrills like a kiss, from the lip to the heart." 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 51 

SPECIMENS FOR READING AND SPEAKING. 

The following brief, miscellaneous specimens, including a 
great variety both of style and sentiment, are inserted, to be 
used as models of expression in the various styles of reading 
and speaking. The student will here find the lively and pa- 
thetic, the tragic and comic, the sublime and beautiful, the pa- 
triotic and devotional. Guided by the preceding rules, let 
teacher and pupils closely study the sense and style of each 
specimen, and dwell upon it until they can give each its natu- 
ral expression. 

1. Talking. 

Son. How big was Alexander, Pa, 
That people call him great? 
"Was he like old Goliath, tall — 
His spear an hundred weight ? 

Father. no, my son, about as large 
As I or Uncle James : 
'Twas not his stature made him great, 
But greatness of his name. 

2. To the Sun — -(Monotone.) 

thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers ! 
Whence are thjr beams, sun, thy everlasting light ? Thou comest 
forth in thy awful beaut} T ; the stars hide themselves in the sky; 
the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave. But thou thy- 
self movest alone. 

3. Liberty. 

But in Cato's judgment, a day, an hour of virtuous liberty is worth 
a whole eternity in bondage. 



52 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

4. Man. 

What a piece of work is man; how noble in reason; how infinite 
in f amities ; in form and moving how express and admirable; in 
action how like an angel ; in apprehension how like a GW/ 

5. Immortality. 

It must be so. — Plato, thou reasonest well 1 
Else, whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, 
I . This longing after immortality ? 

'Tis heaven itself that points oat an hereafter, 

And intimates eternity to man. 

Eternity ! thou pleasing, dreadful thought ! 

6. Triumph of Virtue. 

As some tall cliff that rears its awful form, 
Swells from the plain, and midway leaves the storm, 
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, 
Eternal sunshine settles on its head. 

7. Praise God. 

To Thee, whose temple is all space, 

Whose altar, earth, sea, skies, 
One chorus let all beings raise, 

All nature's incense rise. 

8. What I Love. 

I love to set me on some steep, 
That ovei'hangs this billowy deep, 

And hear the waters roar. 
I love to see the big waves fly, 
And swell their bosoms to the sky, 

Then burst upon the shore. 

9. What I Hate. 

I hate to see a little dunce, 

Who dont get up till eight, 
Come slowly moping into school, 

A half an hour too late. 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 53 



I hate to see his shabby 

The buttons off his clothes ; 
"With blacking on his hands and face, 

Instead of on his shoes. 

10. Golden Rule. 

To do to others as I would 

That they should do to me, 
Will make me honest, kind and good, 
As children ought to be. 

11. Picture of Thought. 

The scene was enchanting ; in distance away, 
Eolled the foam-crested waves of the Chesapeake bay ; 
While, bathing in moonlight, the village was seen ; 
With the church in the distance, that stood on the green ; 
The soft-sleeping meadows lay brightly unrolled, 
With their mantles of verdure, and blossoms of gold; 
And the earth in her beauty, forgetting to grieve, 
Lay asleep in her bloom on the bosom of eve. 

12. Tragic Thought. 

0, could my dying hand but lodge a sword 
In Cmsar's bosom, and revenge my country; 
I could enjoy the pangs of death, and smile, 
In agony ! 

13. Beautiful Thought. 

As the goddess of music takes down her lute, touches its silver 
cords, and sets the summer melodies of nature to words; so an angel 
from the spirit-land comes to us in our sweetest slumber, and gently 
awakens our highest faculties to the finest thought and serenest 
contemplation. 



54 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

14. To the Ocean. 

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean — roll 1 
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. 

******* 
Thou glorious mirror ! where the Almighty's form 
Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time, 
Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, 
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
Dark heaving — boundless, endless, and sublime. 

15. Pride in Dress. 

How proud we are, how fond to show 
Our clothes, and call them rich and new, 

"When the poor sheep and silk-worms wore 
That very clothing, long before. 

16. Little Mary. 

"I wish I was a kitten," said little Mary to her mother, one day, 
"I wish I was a kitten; then I could play all the time, running, and 
jumping, and rolling a ball. 0, how pretty she looks I see, ma, 
only see her play !" 

17. The American Flag. 

Flag of the free hearts' only home, 

By angel hands to valor given ! 
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, 

And all thy hues were born in heaven. 
Forever float that standard sheet ! 

"Where breathes the foe but falls before us ; 
"With freedom's soil beneath our feet, 

And freedom's banner streaming o'er us. 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 55 

18. The Eagle. 

Yon eagle! ah, how joyously he soars up to the glorious heavens ! 
the bird of liberty ! the bird of America! 

His throne is on the mountain top, 

His fields the boundless air ; 
And hoary peaks, that proudly prop 
The skies, his dwellings are. 



19. Patriotism. 

Warsaw's last champion from her height surveyed, 
"Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid: — 
• Oh, Heaven! she cried, my bleeding country save! 
Is there no hand on high, to shield the brave? 
Yet though destruction sweeps these lovely plains, 
Rise, fellow men ! our country yet remains ; 
By that dread name, we wave the sword on high, 
And swear for her to live! — with her to die! 

20. Exaltation. 

5. High on a throne of royal state, which far 
Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind ; 
Or where the gorgeous east with richest hand, 
Showers on her kings barbaric pearls and gold, 
Satan exalted sat. 



21. The Thunderstorm. 

Mark the storm ; and as it nearer comes, and rolls its awful bur- 
den on the wind, the lightnings flash a larger curve, and more the 
noise astounds ; till overhead, a sheet of livid flame, discloses 
wide ; then shuts, and opens wider; still expa)isive, wrapping ether 
in a blaze. 



56 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

22. The Music of Ocean. 

Great Ocean, too, that morning thou the call of retribution 
heardst, and reverently to the last trumpet's voice in silence list- 
ened. Great Ocean ! strongest of creation's sons, unconquerable, 
unreposed, untired, that rolled the wild, profound, eternal bass in 
Nature's anthem, and made music such as pleased the ear of God. 

23. The Lonely Walk. 

ISTor is the hour of lonely walk forgot in the wide desert, where 
the view was large ; where nature sowed, herself, and reaped her 
crops; whose garments were the clouds; whose minstrels, brooks; 
whose lamps, the moon and stars ; whose organ-choir, the voice of 
many waters ; whose banquets, morning dews; whose heroes, storms ; 
whose warriors, mighty winds ; whose lovers, flowers; whose orator s, 
the thunderbolts of God; whose palaces, the everlasting hills ; whose 
ceiling, heaven's unfathomable blue. 

24. The Cuckoo. 

Hail! beauteous stanger of the wood, attendant on the spring ; 

Now heaven repairs thy rural seat, and woods thy welcome sing. 

Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green, 

Thy sky is ever clear ; 
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, 

No winter in thy year. 
0, could I fly, I'd fly with thee; 

We'd make, with social wing, 
Our annual visits o'er the globe, — 

Companions of the spring. 

25. Night. 

"When night, with wings of starry gloom, 

Overshadows all the earth and skies, 
Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume, 

Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes , 
That sacred gloom, those fires divine, 
So grand, so countless, Lord, are thine. 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 57 

26. Spring. 

Bend down from thy chariot, beautiful Spring! 

Unfold like a standard thy radiant wing; 

And beauty and joy in thy rosy path bring. 

We long for thy coming, sweet goddess of love ; 

We watch for thy smiles, in the pure sky above, 

And we sigh for the time when the wood-bird shall sing, 

And nature shall welcome thee, beautiful Spring I 

27. The Grave— (Two Voices.) 

First Voice. How frightful the grave ! how deserted and drear ! 

"With the howls of the storm-wind — the creaks of the 
bier, 
And the white bones all clattering together i 
Second Voice. How peaceful the grave! its quiet how deep; 
Its zephyrs breathe calmly, and soft is its sleep, 
And flowerets perfume it with ether. 

28. Forest Hymn, 

Father, thy hand 
Hath reared these venerable columns; thou 
Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down, 
Upon the naked earth, and forthwith rose 
All these fair ranks of trees. They in thy sun 
Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, 
And shot toward heaven. 

29. The Seasons. 

These as they change, Almighty Father ! these 
Are but the varied God. The rolling year 
Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing spring 
Thy beauty walks, Thy tenderness and love. 
Wide flush the fields, the soft'ning air is balm 
Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; 
And ev'ry sense, and ev'ry heart is joy, 

c* 



'58 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY 

30. The Modem Belle. 

The daughter sits in the parlor, and rocks in her easy chair ; 
She is clad in her silks and satins, and jewels are in her hair-; 
She winks and giggles and simpers, and simpers and giggles and winks, 
And though she talks hut little, 'tis vastly more than she thinks. 

31. Small Talk. 

Ladies and Gentlemen : You have probably heard of Sam. Foote, 
the comedian. If you have not, it is out of my power to tell you 
anything about him, only that he had one leg, and his name was 
Samuel; or, to speak more poetically, one leg he had, and Samuel 
was his name. This Foote wrote a farce called "The Alderman," by 
which he undertook to ridicule a well-fed magistrate of the city of 
London. The magistrate called upon the player, and reprimanded 
him severely for his presumption, adding, " It is my duty to take 
people off." "You shall see how soon I shall take myself off" said 
Foote. So out of the room he goes, as if to prepare, and the alder- 
man sat waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and I've 

forgotten the rest of the story ! 

32. Caudleology. 

0, it is all very well for you ; you can go to sleep ! You have no 
thought of your poor, patient wife, and your own dear children ! 
You think of nothing but lending umbrellas! Men, indeed! — call 
themselves lords of creation! Pretty lords! when they can't take 
care of an umbrella ! 

33. For War. 

In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of 
peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. 
If we wish to be free; if we mean to preserve, inviolate, those in- 
estimable privileges for which we have been so long contending; 
if we mean not basely to abandon this noble struggle, in which 
we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged our- 
selves never to abandon, until the glorious object of our contest 
shall be obtained, we must fight. I repeat it, sir, we must fight. 
An appeal to arms, and to the God of Hosts, is all that is left us. 



THEORETIC AND SCIENTIFIC. 59 

34. The Declaration. 

Kead this Declaration at the head of the army ; every sword will 
be drawn from its scabbard, and the solemn vow uttered to main- 
tain it, or perish on the bed of honor. Publish it from the pulpit; 
religion will approve it, and the love of religious liberty Avill cling 
round it, resolved to stand with it, or fall with it. Send it to the 
public halls ; proclaim it there ; let them hear it who heard the first 
roar of the enemy's cannon ; let them see it who saw their brothers 
and sons fall on the field of Bunker Hill, and in the streets of Lex- 
ington, and Concord; — and the very walls will cry out in its 
support. 

34. Vision. 

And I saw a great white throne, and Him that sat on the throne, 
from whose face the heavens and the earth fled away; and there 
was found no place for them. 

36. Exhortation. 

But thou, man of God, flee these things, and follow after 
righteousness, godliness, faith, love, patience, meekness. Fight the 
good fight of faith; lay hold on eternal life, whereunto thon art 
also called, and hast professed a good profession before many 
witnesses. 

37. Hymn. 

How beauteous are their feet, 

"Who stand on ZiovJs hill ; 
Who bring salvation on their tongues, 

And words of peace reveal. 
How charming is their voice, 

How sioeet the tidings are ; — ■ 
Zion, behold thy Savior- King, 

He reigns and triumphs here. 



60 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

38. Of Death. 

Why do we mourn departing friends, 

Or shake at death's alarms ? 
"lis but the voice that Jesus sends, 

To call tli em to his arms. 
"Why should we tremble to convey 

Their bodies to the tomb ; 
There the dear flesh of Jesus lay, 

And left a long perfume. 
Then let the last, loud trumpet sound, 

And bid our kindred — rise: 
Awake! ye nations underground, 

Ye saints, ascend the skies ! 

39. Eloquence of the Battle-Field. 

BOZZARIS CHEERS HIS BAND. 

1. Strike ! till the last armed foe expires ;— 
Strike ! for your altars and your fires ; — 
Strike ! for the green graves of your sires— 
God, and your native land I 

2. Standi the ground's your own, my braves,— 
Will ye give it up to slaves ? 

Will ye look for greener graves ? 

Hope ye mercy still ? 
What's the mercy despots feel ? 
Hear it in that battle-peal; — 
Read it on yon bristling steel ;— 

Ask it — ye who will ! 

3. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, straining upon 
the start. The game's afoot — follow up your spirit, and upon this 
charge — cry, God for Harry ! England! and St. George I 



PART II. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, ATO POETICAL. 



LESSON I. 

ELOCUTIONARY ENTERTAINMENTS. 



DR. OHA> T NrSG, 



1. A people should be guarded against temptation to unlaw- 
ful pleasures by furnishing the means of innocent ones. There 
is an amusement having an affinity to the drama, which might 
be usefully introduced among us — I mean elocution. A work 
of genius recited by a man of fine taste, enthusiasm and good 
elocution, is a very pure and high gratification. 

2. Were this art cultivated and encouraged, great numbers, 
now insensible to the most beautiful compositions, might wake 
up to their excellence and power. It is not easy to conceive a 
more effectual way of spreading a refined taste through a com- 
munity. The drama undoubtedly appeals more strongly to 
the passions than recitation, but the latter brings out the mean- 
ing of the author more. 

3. Shakspeare well recited would be better understood than 
on the stage. Then, in recitation, we escape the weariness of 
listening to poor performers, who after all, fill up most of the 
time at the theater. Recitation, sufficiently varied so as to in- 
clude pieces of chaste wit, as well as of pathos, beauty, and 



62 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

sublimity, is adapted to our present intellectual progress, as 
much as the drama falls below it. 

4. Should this exhibition be introduced successfully, the re- 
sult would be that the power of recitation would be extensively 
called forth, and this would be added to our social and domes- 
tic pleasures. 



LESSON n. 

JENNY LIND'S GREETING TO AMERICA. 



BAYARD TATLOE. 



1. I greet, with a full heart, the Land of the West, 

Whose banner of stars o'er the world is unrolled ; 
Whose empire o'ershadows Atlantic's wide breast, 

And opes to the sunset its gateway of gold ! 
The land of the mountain, the land of the lake, 

And rivers that roll in magnificent tide — 
Where the sons of the mighty from slumber awake . 

And hallow the soil for whose freedom they died \ 

2. Thou cradle of empire ! though wide be the foam 

That severs the land of my fathers and thee, 
I hear, from thy bosom, the welcome of home, 

For song has a home in the hearts of the free ! 
And long as thy waters shall gleam in the sun, 

And long as thy heroes remember their scars, 
Be the hands of thy children united as one, 

And peace shed her light on thy banner of stars ! 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 63 

LESSON in. 

ORATORICAL ACTION. 



1. It will not, I think, be pretended, that any of our public 
speakers have often occasion to address more sagacious, learned, 
or polite assemblies, than those which were composed of the 
Roman senate, or the Athenian people, in their most enlight- 
ened times. But it is well known what great stress the most 
celebrated orators of those times laid on action ; how exceed- 
ingly imperfect they reckoned eloquence without it, and what 
wonders they performed with its assistance; performed upon 
the greatest, firmest, most sensible, and most elegant spirits the 
world ever saw. It were easy to throw together a number of 
common-place quotations, in support, or illustration of this, and 
almost every other remark that can be made upon the present 
subject. 

2. But as that would lead me beyond the intention of this 
address, I need only mention here one simple fact, which every- 
body has heard of; that whereas Demosthenes himself did not 
succeed in his first attempts, through his having neglected to 
study action, he afterward arrived at such a pitch in that fac- 
ulty, that when the people of Rhodes expressed in high terms 
their admiration of his famous oration for Ctesiphon, upon hear- 
ing it read with a very sweet and strong voice by iEschines, 
whose banishment it had procured, that great and candid judge 
said to them, " How would you have been affected, had you 
seen him speak it? For he that only hears Demosthenes, 
loses much the better part of the oration." 

3. What an honorable testimony this from a vanquished ad- 
versary, and such an adversary ! What a noble idea doth it 
give of that wonderful orator's action ! I grasp it with ardor; 
I transport myself .in imagination to old Athens. I mingle 



64 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

with the popular assembly, I behold the lightning, I listen to 
the thunder of Demosthenes. I feel my blood thrilled, I see 
the auditory lost and shaken, like some deep forest by a mighty 
storm. I am filled with wonder at such marvelous effects. I 
am hurried almost out of myself. In a little while I endeavor 
to be more collected. 

4. Then I consider the orator's address. I find the whole 
inexpressible. But nothing strikes me more than his action. I 
perceive the various passions he would inspire, raised in him 
by turns, and working from the depth of his frame. Now he 
glows with the love of the public ; now he flames with indig- 
nation at its enemies ; then he swells with disdain, of its false, 
indolent, or interested friends, anon he melts with grief for its 
misfortunes ; and now he turns pale with fear of yet greater 
ones. Every feature, nerve, and circumstance about him is in- 
tensely animated ; each almost seems as if it would speak. I 
discern his inmost soul, I see it as only clad in some thin, trans- 
parent vehicle. It is all on fire. I wonder no longer at the 
effects of such eloquence. I only wonder at their cause. 



LESSON IV. 

NEW ENGLAND, I LOVE THEE. 

ANONYMOUS. 

1. The hills of New England — how proudly they rise, 
In the wildness of grandeur, to blend with the skies ! 
With their fair azure outline, and tall, ancient trees, 
New England, my country, I love thee for these ! 

2. The vales of New England, that cradle her streams — 
That smile in their greenness, like land in our dreams ; 
All sunny with pleasure, embosom'd in ease — 

New England, my country, I love thee for these ! 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 65 

3. The woods of New England, still verdant and high, 
Though rock'd by the tempests of ages gone by ; 
Romance dims their arches, and speaks in the breeze- — 
New England, my country, I love thee for these ! 

4. The streams of New England, that roar as they go. 
Or seem in their stillness but dreaming to flow ; 

O bright glides the sunbeam their march to the seas — - 
New England, my country, I love thee for these ! 

5. God shield thee, New England, dear land of my birth ! 
And thy children that wander afar o'er the earth ; 
Thou'rt my country : — wherever my lot shall be cast, 
Take thou to thy bosom my ashes at last ' 



LESSON V. 

NATURE AND NATURE^ GOD. 

ANONYMOUS. 

1. How beautiful the world is! The green earth, covered 
with flowers — the trees, laden with rich blossoms — the blue 
sky and the bright water, and the golden sunshine. The 
world is, indeed, beautiful; and He, who made it, must be 
beautiful. 

2. It is a happy world. Hark ! how the merry birds sing — 
and the young lambs, see ! how they gambol on the hill-side. 
Even the trees wave, and the brooks ripple, in gladness. Yon 
eagle! — ah! how joyously he soars up to the glorious heav- 
ens — the bird of liberty — the bird of America. 

3. " His throne, is on the mountain top ; 
His fields, the boundless air ; 
And hoary peaks, that proudly prop 
The skies — his dwellings are. 

5 



66 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

4. " He rises, like a thing of light, 
Amid the noontide blaze: 
The midway sun — is clear and bright ; 
It cannot dim his gaze." 

5. It is happy — I see it, and hear it all about me — nay, I 
feel it here, in the glow, the eloquent glow of my own heart. 
He who made it, must be happy. 

6. It is a great world ! Look off to the mighty ocean, when 
the storm is upon it ; to the huge mountains, when the thunder 
and the lightnings play over it ; to the vast forest, the inter- 
minable waste ; the sun, the moon, and the myriads of fair 
stars, countless as the sands upon the sea- shore. It is a great, 
a magnificent world — and He, who made it, oh ! He is the per- 
fection of all loveliness all goodness, all greatness, all glory. 



LESSON VI. 

LADIES SHOULD STUDY ELOCUTION. 
MKS. SIGOUEtfBY. 

1. Reading aloud, with propriety and grace, is an accom- 
plishment worthy of the acquisition of females. To enter into 
the spirit of an author, and convey his sentiments with a happy 
adaptation of tone, emphasis, and manner, is no common at- 
tainment. It is peculiarly valuable in our sex, because it so 
often gives them an opportunity of imparting pleasure and im- 
provement to an assembled family, during the winter evening, 
or the protracted storm. In the zeal for feminine accomplish- 
ments, it would seem that the graces of elocution had been too 
little regarded. 

2. Permit me to fortify my opinion, by the authority of the 
Rev. Mr. Gallaudet. " I cannot understand why it should be 
thought, as it sometimes is, a departure from female delicacy, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 67 

to read in a promiscuous, social circle, if called upon to do so, 
from any peculiar circumstance, and to read, too, as well as 
Garrick himself, if the young lady possesses the power ojf 
doing it. 

3. " Why may she not do this with as much genuine mod- 
esty, and with as much of a desire to oblige' her friends, and 
with as little of ostentation, as to sit down in the same circle, 
to the piano, and play and sing in the style of the first mas- 
ters % If, to do the former, is making too much of a display 
of her talents, why should not the latter be so ? Nothing but 
some strange freak of fashion, can have made a difference." 

4. Fine reading is an accomplishment, where the inherent 
music, both of the voice and of the intellect, may be uttered ; 
for the scope and compass of each, is often fully taxed, and 
happily developed, in the interpretation of delicate shades of 
meaning, and gradations of thought. Its first element, to be 
clearly understood, is often too much disregarded, so that, with 
some who are pronounced fashionable readers, low, or artificial 
intonations so perplex the listener, as to leave it doubtful 
whether "the uncertain sound was piped or harped." 



LESSON VII. 

APOSTROPHE TO SPRING. 
MBS M. M. DAVISON. 

Bend down from thy chariot, O beautiful Spring ! 

Unfold like a standard thy radiant wing, 

And beauty and joy in thy rosy path bring : 

We long for thy coming, sweet goddess of love, 

We watch for thy smiles in the pure sky above, 

And we sigh for the time when the wood-bird shall sing, 

And nature shall welcome thee, beautiful Spring ! 



68 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

2. How the lone heart will bound when thy presence draws 
near, 
As if borne from this world to some lovelier sphere, ; 
How the found soul to meet thee in rapture shall rise, 
When thy first blush has tinted the earth and the skies. 

8. send thy soft breath on the icy-bound stream, 
'Twill vanish, 'twill melt like the forms in a dream, 
Released from the chain, like a child in its glee, 
'Twill flow on unbounded, unfettered, and free; 
'Twill leap on in joy, like a bird on the wing, 
And hail thy sweet music, O beautiful Spring ! 

4. But tread with thy foot on the snow-covered plain, 
And verdure and beauty shall smile in thy train ; 
But whisper one word with thy seraph-like voice, 
And nature and earth shall rejoice, shall rejoice ! 

5. O Spring ! lovely goddess, what form can compare 
With thine, so resplendent, so glowing, and fair ? 
What sunbeam so bright as thine own smiling eye, 
From whose glance the dark spirit of winter doth fly ? 

6. A garland of roses is twined round thy brow, 

Thy cheek with the pale blush of evening doth glow, 
A mantle of green o'er thy soft form is spread, 
And the light-winged zephyrs play round thy head. 

7. While the thought of thy beauty inspireth my brain, 
I shrink from the terrors of cold winter's reign, 
Methinks I behold thee, I hear thy soft voice, 

And in fullness of heart I rejoice ! I rejoice ! 

O could I but mount on the eagle's dark wing, 

I'd rest ever beside thee, Spring ! beautiful Spring ! 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 69 

LESSON VIII. 

IMPORTANCE OF THE DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 
HOBACE MASH. 

1. The history of the world shows an ever present desire in 
mankind to acquire power and privilege, and to retain them, 
when acquired. Knowledge is power ; and the race has suf- 
fered as much from the usurpers of knowledge, as from Alex- 
anders or Napoleons. If learning could be monopolized by a 
few individuals amongst us, another priesthood, Egyptian or 
Druidical, would speedily arise, bowing the souls of men be- 
neath the burden of their terrible superstitions ; or, if learning 
were more widely spread, but still confined to a privileged or- 
der, the multitude, unable to comprehend the source of the ad- 
vantages it conferred, and stimulated by envy and fear, would 
speedily extinguish whatever there might be of light — just as 
the owl, and the bat, and the mole, if they were promoted 
to the government of the solar system, would extinguish the 
sun, because its beams arrested their hunt for insects and 
vermin. 

2. The whole people must be instructed in the knowledge 
of their duties, they must be elevated to a contemplation and 
comprehension of those great truths on which alone a govern- 
ment like ours can be successfully conducted ; and any hope 
of arresting degeneracy, or suppressing the insurgent passions 
of the multitude by the influence of here and there an individ- 
ual, though he were wise as Solon or Solomon, would prove as 
fallacious as an attempt to stop the influx of malaria, by sprink- 
ling a little chloride of lime along the creeks and shallows of 
the shore, if the whole ocean, in all its depths, were corrupted. 

3. Bear with me, fellow-citizens, while I say, I rejoice that 
this emergency has burst upon us. I rejoice that power has 
passed irrevocably into the hands of the people, although I know 



70 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

it has "brought imminent peril upon all public and private in- 
terests, and placed what is common and what is sacred alike in 
jeopardy. Century after century mankind had groaned be- 
neath unutterable oppressions. To pamper a few with luxu- 
ries, races had been subjected to bondage. To satiate the am- 
bition of a tyrant, nations had been dashed against each other 
in battle, and millions crushed by the shock. The upward 
tending, light seeking capacities of the soul had been turned 
downward into darkness and debasement. 

4. All the realms of futurity, which the far-seeing eye of 
the mind could penetrate, had been peopled with the specters 
of superstition. The spirits of the infernal world had been 
subsidized, to bind all religious freedom, whether of thought or 
of speech, in the bondage of fear. Heaven had been sold, for 
money, like an earthly domicile, by those who, least of all, had 
any title to its mansions. In this exigency, it was the expedi- 
ent of Providence, to transfer dominion from the few to the 
many — from those who had abused it, to those who had suf- 
fered. The wealthy, the high-born, the privileged, had had it 
in their power to bless the people ; but they had cursed them. 
Now, they and all their fortunes are in the hands of the people. 
The poverty which they have entailed is to command their op- 
ulence. The ignorance they have suffered to abound, is to ad- 
judicate upon their rights. The appetites they have neglected, 
or which they have stimulated for their own indulgence, are to 
invade the sanctuary of their homes. 

5. In fine, that interest and concern for the welfare of infe- 
riors, which should have sprung from motives of philanthropy, 
must now be extorted from motives of self-preservation. As 
famine teaches mankind to be industrious and provident, so do 
these great developments teach the more favored classes of so- 
ciety that they never can be safe while they neglect the welfare 
of any portion of their social inferiors. In a broad survey of 
the grand economy of Providence, the lesson of frugality and 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 71 

thrift, which is taught by the dearth of a single year, is no 
plainer than this grander lesson of universal bevevolence, which 
the lapse of centuries has been evolving, and is now inculcating 
upon the world. 

6. Yes, fellow-citizens, it is the sublimest truth which the 
history of the race has yet brought to light, that God has so 
woven the fortunes of all men into one inseparable bond of 
unity and fellowship, that it can be well with no class, or oli- 
garchy, or denomination of men, who in their own self-seek- 
ing, forget the welfare of their fellow beings. Nature has so 
bound us together by the ties of brotherhood, by the endear 
ments of sympathy and benevolence, that the doing of good to 
others opens deep and perennial well-springs of joy in the hu- 
man soul ; but if we will select the coarse gratifications of sel- 
fishness, if we will forget our own kindred blood in whatsoever 
veins it may flow, then the eternal laws denounce, and will ex- 
ecute upon us tribulation and anguish, and a fearful looking for 
of an earthly, as well as of a heavenly judgment. 

7. In the first place, there is the property of the affluent, 
which lies outspread, diffused, scattered over land and sea — 
open alike to the stealthiness of the thief, the violence of the 
robber, and the torch of the incendiary. If any think they 
hold their estates by a surer tenure — by charters, franchises, or 
other muniments of property ; let them know that all these, 
while the ballot-box which controls legislation, and the jury- 
box and the witnesses' stand, which control the tribunals of 
justice, are open ; all these are but as iron mail to protect 
them against lightning. Where is their security againt breaches 
of trust, and fraudulent bankruptcies — against stop-laws and 
suspension-acts, or the bolder measures of legislative repu 
diation 1 

8. If their ultimate hope is in the protection of the laws, what 
shall save them, when fraud and perjury turn every legal rem 
edy into a new instrumpxit of aggression 1 And behind all 



72 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

these, there is an omnipotent corps de reserve of physical force, 
which mocks at the slowness of legislation and judiciary — whose 
decrees are irreversible deeds — whose terrific decisions flash 
forth in fire, or burst out in demolition. But houses, lands, 
granaries, flocks, factories, warehouses, ships, banks, are only 
exterior possessions — the outworks of individual ownership. 
When these are carried, tke assault will be made upon per- 
sonal security, character, and life ; and, lastly, upon all the en- 
dearments and sanctities that cluster around the domestic 
altar — and when these are lost, humanity has nothing more 
to lose. 

9. Look at England : and is she not, at the present moment, 
teaching a lesson too instructive to be lost upon us 1 There, 
a landed aristocracy, by extortious rents and class-legislation, 
have turned every tivelfth subject into a pauper. They have 
improved soils ; but they have forgotten the cultivator him- 
self — as though the clod of the valley were worth more than 
the soul of the tiller. The terms offered by manufacturing 
capitalists, with a few most worthy exceptions, have been, ab- 
solute starvation, or work with the lowest life-sustaining pit- 
tance. Manufacturers have been most anxious about tariff-laws, 
which merely regulate the balance of trade ; but heedless of 
those moral laws, which determine the balance of all power in 
the last resort. They have been alive to all improvements in 
machinery, but dead to the character of the operatives who 
were to work it. 

10. Surely there is no such danger of spontaneous combus- 
tion in a heap of oiled cotton or wool, as there is in a mass of 
human ignorance and prejudice ; nor can the former be so 
easily set on fire by a torch, as the latter by a demagogue. 
For years past the upper house of parliament have perseve- 
ringly and successfully resisted all measures for national edu- 
cation, which they could not pervert from the bestowment of 
equal benefits upon all, to the support of their own monopolies. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 73 

And, as a legitimate consequence of all these systematic, whole- 
sale infractions of the great law which teaches us to do unto 
others as we would that they should do unto us, there are 
now, to-day, three millions of Chartists thundering at the 
palace gates, and the motto upon their banner is, " Bread or 
Blood." 



LESSON IX. 

WOMAN. 

E. H. TOWNSEND. 

1. Sylph of the blue, and beaming eye ! 

The Muses' fondest wreaths are thine — 
The youthful heart beats warm and high. 

And joys to own thy power divine 1 
Thou shinest o'er the flowery path 

Of youth ; and all is pleasure there ! 
Thou soothest man, whene'er he hath 

An eye of gloom — a brow of care. 

2. To youth, thou art the early morn, 

With " light, and melody, and song," 
To gild his path, each scene adorn, 

And swiftly speed his time along. 
To man, thou art the gift of Heaven, 

A boon from regions bright above ; 
His lot, how -dark, had ne'er been given 

To him the light of woman's love ! 

3. When o'er his dark'ning brow, the storm 

Is gath'ring in its power and might, 
The radiant beam of woman's form 

Shines through the cloud, and all is light ! 



74 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

When dire disease prepares her wrath 
To pour in terror from above, 

How gleams upon his gloomy path, 
The glowing light of woman's love ! 

4. When all around is clear and bright, 

And pleasure lends her fairest charm ; 
And man, enraptur'd with delight, 

Teels, as he views, his bosom warm, 
Why glows his breast with joy profuse, 

And all his deeds, his rapture prove ? 
It is, because the scene he views 

Through the bright rays of woman's love. 

5. O woman ! thine is still the power, 

Denied to all but only thee, 
To chase away the clouds that lower, 

To harass life's eventful sea. 
Thou light of man ! his only joy, 

Beneath a wide and boundless sky, 
Long shall thy praise his tongue employ, 

Sylph of the blue, and beaming eye ! 



LESSON X. 



OSSIAN S ADDRESS TO THE SUN. 



1. O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my 
fathers ! whence are thy beams, O sun ! thy everlasting light ? 
Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty ; the stars hide them- 
selves in the sky ; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western 
wave. But thou thyself mo vest alone : who can be a com- 
panion of thy course ? 

2. The oaks of the mountains fall ; the mountains them- 
selves decay with years : the ocean shrinks and grows again ; 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 75 

the moon herself is lost in the heavens ; but thou art forever 
the same, rejoicing in the brightness of thy course. 

3. When the world is dark with tempests, when thunders 
roll and lightnings fly, thou lookest in thy beauty from the 
clouds, and laughest at the storm. But to Ossian thou lookest 
in vain ; for he beholds thy beams no more ; whether thy yel- 
low hair flows on the eastern clouds, or thou tremblest at the 
gates of the west. 

4. But thou art, perhaps, like me, for a season ; thy years 
will have an end. Thou wilt sleep in thy clouds, careless of 
the voice of the morning. Exult then, O sun, in- the strength 
of thy youth — age is dark and unlovely : it is like the glim- 
mering light of the moon when it shines through broken clouds, 
and the mist is on the hills, the blast of the North is on the 
plains, the traveler shrinks in the midst of his journey. 



LESSON XI. 

WHERE IS THE SPIRIT-LAND 1 

MKS. HBMANS. 

1. Answer me, burning stars of night ! 

Where hath the spirit gone, 
That, past the reach of human sight, 

E'en as a breeze, hath flown 1 
And the stars answer'd me, — " We roll 

In light, and power on high ; 
But of the never-dying soul, 

Ask things that cannot die ! " 

2. O many-toned, and chainless wind ! 

Thou art a wanderer free, 
Tell me if thou its place canst find, 
Ear over mount and sea 1 



76 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

And the wind murmur'd in reply — 

" The blue deep I have cross'd, 

And met its barks, and billows high, 

But not what thou hast lost ! " 

3. Ye clouds that gorgeously repose 

Around the setting sun, 
Answer ! have ye a home for those 

Whose earthly race is run ? 
The bright clouds answer'd, — " We depart, 

We vanish from the sky ; 
Ask what is deathless in thy heart, 

For that which cannot die ! " 

4. Speak, then, thou voice of God within ! 

Thou of the deep low tone 
Answer me ! through life's restless din, 

Where hath the spirit flown % 
And the voice answer'd, — " Be thou still ! 

Enough to know is given ; 
Clouds, winds, and stars their task fulfill, — 

Thine is to trust in Heaven ! " 



LESSON XII. 

PROGRESS OF THE MECHANIC ARTS. 

WEBSTEB. 

1. The slightest glance must convince us that mechanical 
power and mechanical skill, as they are now exhibited in Eu 
rope and America, mark an epoch in human history worthy of 
all admiration. Machinery is made to perform what has for 
merly been the toil of human hands, to an extent that aston 
ishes the most sanguine, with a degree of power to which no 
number of human arms is equal, and with such precision and 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 77 

exactness, as almost to suggest the notion of reason and intelli- 
gence in the machines themselves. 

2. Every natural agent is put unrelentingly to the task. 
The winds work, the waters work, the elasticity of metals 
works ; gravity is solicited into a thousand new forms of ac- 
tion ; levers are multiplied upon levers ;. wheels revolve on the 
peripheries of other wheels ; the saw and the plane are tor- 
tured into an accommodation to new uses, and, last of all, with 
inimitable power, and with " whirlwind sound," comes the po- 
tent agency of steam. 

3. In comparison with the past, what centuries of improve- 
ment has this single agent comprised, in the short compass of 
fifty years ! Everywhere practicable, everywhere efficient, it 
has an arm a thousand times stronger than that of Hercules, 
and to which human ingenuity is capable of fitting a thousand 
times as many hands as belonged to Briareus. Steam is found 
in triumphant operation on the seas ; and under the influence 
of its strong propulsion, the gallant ship, 

"Against the wind, against the tide, 
Still steadies, with an upright keel." 

4. It is on the rivers, and the boatman may repose on his 
oars ; it is on the highways, and begins to exert itself along the 
courses of land conveyance ; it is at the bottom of mines, a 
thousand feet below the earth's surface ; it is in the mill, and in 
the workshops of the trades. It rows, it pumps, it excavates, 
it carries, it draws, it lifts, it hammers, it spins, it weaves, it 
prints. It seems to say to men, at least to the class of artisans, 
" Leave off your manual labor, give over your bodily toil ; be- 
stow but your skill and reason to the directing of my power, 
and I will bear the toil — with no muscle to grow weary, no 
nerve to relax, no breast to feel faintness." 

5. What further improvements may still be made in the 
use of this astonishing power, it is impossible to know, and it 



78 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

were vain to conjecture. What we do know is, that it has most 
essentially altered the face of affairs, and that no visible limit 
yet appears, beyond which its progress is seen to be impossi- 
ble. If its power were now to be annihilated, if we were to 
miss it on the water and in the mills, it would seem as if we 
were going back to rude ages. 



LESSON XIII. 

TO MARY IN HEAVEN. 
BITEN3. 

1. Tnou lingering star, with less'ning ray, 

That lov'st to greet the early morn, 
Again, thou usher'st in the day, 
My Mary, from my soul was torn. 

2. O, Mary ! dear departed shade ! 

Where is thy place of blissful rest \ 
Seest thou thy lover, lowly laid % 

Hear'st thou the groans, that rend his breast ? 

3. That sacred hour can I forget, 

Can I forget the hallow'd grove, 

Where, by the winding Ayr we met, 

To live one day of parting love ! 

4. Eternity will not efface 

Those records dear, of transports past ; 
Thy image, at our last embrace ! 

Ah ! little thought we, 'twas our last ! 

5. Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbly shore, 

O'erhung with wild-woods' thick'ning green j 
The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, 
Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd scene. 






RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 79 

6. The flowers sprang, wanton to be prest, 

The birds sang love on every spray, 
Till too, too soon, the glowing west 
Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. 

7. Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes, 

And fondly broods, with miser care ! 
Time, but the impression deeper makes, 
As streams their channels deeper -wear. 

8. My Mary ! dear departed shade ! 

Where is thy place of blissful rest ? 
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? 

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast % 



LESSON XIV. 

INFLUENCE OE NATIONAL GLORY. 



1. We are asked, what have we gained by the war ? I have 
shown that we have lost nothing in rights, territory, or honor ; 
nothing for which we ought to have contended, according to the 
principles of the gentlemen on the other side, or according to 
our own. Have we gained nothing by the war 1 Let any man 
look at the degraded condition of this country before the war, 
the scorn of the universe, the contempt of ourselves, and tell 
me if we have gained nothing by the war. What is our pres- 
ent situation? Respectability and character abroad, security 
and confidence at home. If we have not obtained, in the 
opinion of some, the full measure of retribution, our char- 
acter and constitution are placed on a solid basis, never to be 
shaken. 

2. The glory acquired by our gallant tars, by our Jacksoos 



80 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

and our Browns on the land — is that nothing 1 True, we had 
our vicissitudes : there were humiliating events which the pat- 
riot cannot review without deep regret — but the great account, 
when it comes to be balanced, will be found vastly in our fa- 
vor. Is there a man who would obliterate from the proud 
pages of our history the brilliant achievements of Jackson, 
Brown, and Scott, and the host of heroes on land and sea, whom 
I cannot enumerate? Is there a man who could not desire 
a participation in the national glory acquired by the war? 
Yes, national glory, which, however the expression may be 
condemned by some, must be cherished by every genuine 
patriot. 

3. What do I mean by national glory 1 Glory such as 
Hull, Jackson, and Perry have acquired. And are gentlemen 
insensible to their deeds — to the value of them in animating 
the country in the hour of peril hereafter 1 Did the battle of 
Thermopylae preserve Greece but once ? Whilst the Missis- 
sippi continues to bear the tributes of the Iron Mountains and 
the Alleghanies to her Delta and to the Gulf of Mexico, the 
eighth of January shall be remembered, and the glory of that 
day shall stimulate future patriots, and nerve the arms of un- 
born freemen in driving the presumptuous invader from our 
country's soil. 

4. Gentlemen may boast of their insensibility to feelings in- 
spired by the contemplation of such events. But I would ask, 
does the recollection of Bunker's Hill, Saratoga, and Yorktown, 
afford them no pleasure % Every act of noble sacrifice to the 
country, every instance of patriotic devotion to her cause, has 
its beneficial influence. A nation's character is the sum of its 
splendid deeds ; they constitute one common patrimony, the 
nation's inheritance. They awe foreign powers — they arouse 
and animate our own people. I love true glory. It is this 
sentiment which ought to be cherished ; and, iu spite of cavils, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 81 

and sneers, and attempts to put it down, it will finally conduct 
this nation to that height to which God and nature have des 
tined it. 



LESSON XV. 

THE NEEDLE. 

WOODWORTH. 

1. The gay belles of fashion, may boast of excelling, 

In waltz, or cotillion, at whist or quadrille ; 
And seek admiration, by vauntingly telling, 

Of drawing, and painting, and musical skill ; 
But give me the fair one, in country or city, 

Whose home, and its duties, are dear to her heart ; 
Who cheerfully warbles some rustical ditty, 

While plying the needle with exquisite art ; 
The bright little needle, the swift flying needle, 

The needle directed by beauty and art. 

2. If love has a potent, a magical token, 

A talisman, ever resistless and true, 
A charm, that is never evaded or broken, 

A witchery, certain the heart to subdue, 
'Tis this — and his armory never has furnished, 

So keen, and unerring, or polished a dart, 
(Let beauty direct it,) so pointed and burnish'd, 

And, oh ! it is certain of touching the heart ; 
The bright little needle, the swift flying needle, 

The needle directed by beauty and art. 

3. Be wise, then, ye maidens, nor seek admiration, 

By dressing for conquest, and flirting with all ; 
You never, whate'er be your fortune, or station, 
Appear half so lovely at rout or at ball, 
D* 6 



82 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

As, gaily conven'd at the work-covered table, 
Each cheerfully active, and playing her part, 

Beguiling the task with a song or a fable, 
And plying the needle with exquisite art. 

The bright little needle, the swift knitting needle, 
The needle directed by beauty and art. 



LESSON XVI. 

EVILS OF IGNORANCE. 
HORACE MANN. 

1. Let us suppose that we were now overtaken by some 
great crisis m our national affairs — such as we have already 
seen, or may soon see, — let us suppose that, in the issue of 
some presidential contest, for instance, not only the public in- 
terests of the nation, but the private interests of thousands of 
individuals, should be adroitly implicated ; and that prepara- 
tions should be made, and a zeal excited, corresponding to the 
magnitude of the occasion. War impends. Commerce, man- 
ufactures, agriculture, are at stake, or in conflict. The profits 
of capital and the wages of labor, have been made to antago- 
nize. North and south are confronted. Rich and poor, high and 
low, radical and conservative, bigot and latitudinarian, are mar- 
shaled for the onset. The expectants of office, suffering under 
a four, perhaps an eight year's famine, are rioting on anticipa- 
ted spoils. The spume of other countries and the refuse of 
our own are coalescing, and some Cataline is springing to the 
head of every ruffian band. Excitement foams through all the 
veins of the body politic; — in some it is fever; in others de- 
lirium ; and, under these auspices, or omens, the eventful day 
arrives. 

2. It surely requires but little effort of the imagination to 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL AND POETICAL. 83 

picture forth the leaders of all the parti-colored bands into 
which our country is divided, as at the head of their respective 
companies, and gathering them to a mightier assembly than 
ever met in Grecian Areopagus or Koman Comitia. Among 
the vast and motley-souled hosts, which such a day would sum- 
mon together, I will direct your attention to but two grand 
divisions ; — divisions, however, of this republican army, which 
would be first in the field, and most contentious for the vic- 
tory. I mean the legionaries of Crime and those of Ignorance. 

3. Behold, on this side, crowding to the polls, and even can- 
didates for the highest office in the gift of the people, are those 
whose hands are red with a brother's blood, slain in private 
quarrel ! Close pressing upon these, urges onward a haughty 
band glittering in wealth; but for every flash that glitters 
from jewel and diamond, a father, a mother, and helpless 
children have been stolen, and sold into ransomless bondage. 
Invading their ranks struggles forward a troop of assassins, ri- 
oters, lynchers, incendiaries, who have hitherto escaped the ret- 
ributions of law, and would now annihilate the law whose 
judgments/ they fear; behind these, pours on, tumultuous, the 
chaotic rout of atheism ; and yonder dashes forward a sea of 
remorseless life, — thousands and ten thousands, — all felons, 
convicts, condemned by the laws of God and man. 

4. In all the dread catalogue of moral sins, there is not one, 
but, in that host, there are hearts which have willed, and hands 
which have perpetrated it. The gallows has spared its victim, 
the prison has released its tenants, — from dark cells where 
malice had brooded, where incendiarism and lust had engen- 
dered their machinations, where revenge and robbery had held 
their nightly rehearsals, the leprous multitude is disgorged, and 
comes up to the ballot-box to foredoom the destinies of this 
nation. In gazing at this multitudinous throng, who emerge 
from their hiding places on the days of our elections — all fla- 
grant with crime and infamy — would not every man exclaim, 



84 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

" I did not know, I could not have thought, that all the foul 
kennels and stews of earth, nay, nor all the gorged avenues of 
hell, could regurgitate upon the world, these legions of" in- 
iquity ! " 

5. But look again on the other side, at that deep and dense 
array of Ignorance, whose limits the eye cannot discover. Its 
van leans against us here, its rear is beyond the distant hills. 
They too, in this hour of their country's peril, have come up 
to turn the folly of which they are unconscious, into measures 
which they cannot understand, by votes which they cannot read. 
Nay more, and worse ! for, from the ranks of crime, emissa- 
ries and bandit leaders are sallying forth toward the ranks of 
ignorance, and hissing to and fro amongst them, shouting the 
gibberish war-cries of faction, and flaunting banners with lying 
symbols, such as cheat the eye of a mindless brain, — and thus 
the hosts of crime are to lead on the hosts of ignorance, in their 
assault upon Liberty and Law ! 

6. What, now, shall be done to save the citadel of freedom, 
where are treasured all the hopes of posterity ? Or, if we can 
survive the peril of such a day, what shall be done, to prevent 
the next generation from sending forth still more numerous 
hordes, — afflicted with deeper blindness and incited by darker 
depravity 1 Are there any here, who would counsel us to 
save the people from themselves, by wresting from their hands 
this formidable right of ballot % Better for the man who would 
purpose this remedy to an infuriate multitude, that he should 
stand in the lightning's path as it descends from heaven to 
earth. 

7. And answer me this question ; you, who would re-con- 
quer for the few, the power which has been won by the many ; 
you, who would disfranchise the common mass of mankind, 
and re-condemn them to become helots, and bondmen, and 
feudal serfs ; tell me, were they again in the power of your 
castes, would you not again neglect them, again oppress them, 



RHETORICAL. CLASSICAL. AND POETICAL. 85 

again make them the slaves to your voluptuousness, and the 
panders or the victims of your vices ? Tell me, you royalists 
and hierarchs, or advocates of royalty and hierarchy, were the 
poor and the ignorant again in your power, to be tasked and 
tithed at your pleasure, would you not turn another Ireland 
into paupers, and colonize another Botany Bay with crimi- 
nals ] Would you not brutify the men of other provinces 
into the i: Dogs of Vendee,'' and debase the noble and re- 
fined nature of woman, in other cities, into the " Poissardes of 
Paris?'' 

8. O ! better, far better, that the atheist and the blasphemer, 
and he who since the last setting sun, has dyed his hands in 
parricide, or his soul in sacrilege, should challenge equal po- 
litical power with the wisest and the best — better, that these 
blind Samsons, in the wantonness of their gigantic strength, 
should tear down the pillars of the republic, than that the great 
lesson which Heaven, for six thousand years, has been teaching 
to the world, should be lost upon it ; the lesson that the intel- 
lectual and moral nature of man is the one thing precious in 
the sight of God ; and therefore, until this nature is cultivated, 
and enlightened, and purified, neither opulence nor power, nor 
learning, nor genius, nor domestic sanctity, nor the holiness of 
God's altars, can ever be safe. Until the immortal and god- 
like capacities of every being that comes into the world are 
deemed more worthy, are watched more tenderly, than any 
other thing, no dynasty of men, or form of government, can 
stand, or shall stand upon the face of the earth ; and the force 
of the fraud, which would seek to uphold them, shall be but 
" as fetters of flax to bind the flame." 

9. In all that company of felons and caitiffs, who prowl over 
the land, is there one man, who did not bring with him into 
life, the divine germ of conscience, a sensibility to right, and 
capacities which might have been nurtured and trained into the 
fear of God, and the love of man ? In all this company of ig. 



BO ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

norance, which, in its insane surgery, dissects eye and brain 
and heart, and maims every limb of the body politic, to find 
the disease, which honestly, though blindly, it wishes to cure ; 
in all this company, is there one, who did not bring with him 
into life, noble faculties of thought, capabilities of judgment, 
and prudence, and skill, that might have been cultivated into a 
knowledge, an appreciation, and a wise and loving guardianship 
of all human interests and human rights % 

10. The wickedness and blindness of the subjects are the 
judgments of heaven for the neglect of the sovereign ; for, to 
this end, and to no other, was superiority given to a few, and 
the souls of all men preadapted to pay spontaneous homage to 
strength and talent and exalted station, that through the benig- 
nant and attractive influence of their possessors, the whole race 
might be won to wisdom and virtue. Let those, then, whose 
wealth is lost or jeoparded by fraud or misgovernment ; let 
those who quake with apprehension for the fate of all they hold 
dear ; let those who behold and lament the desecration of all 
that is holy ; let rulers whose counsels are perplexed, whose 
plans are baffled, whose laws defied or evaded — let them all 
know, that whatever ills they feel or fear, are but the just ret- 
ributions of a righteous heaven for neglected childhood. 

11. Remember, then, the child whose voice first lisps, to-day, 
before that voice shall whisper sedition in secret, or thunder 
treason at the head of an armed band. Remember the child 
whose hand, to-day, first lifts its tiny bauble, before that hand 
shall scatter fire-brands, arrows, and death. Remember those 
sportive groups of youth in whose halcyon bosoms there sleeps 
an ocean, as yet scarcely ruffled by the passions, which soon 
shall heave it as with a tempest's strength. Remember, that 
whatever station in life you may fill, these mortals, these im- 
mortals, are your care. Devote, expend, consecrate yourselves 
to the holy work of their improvement. Pour out light and 
truth, as God pours sunshine and rain. No longer seek knowl 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 87 

edge as the luxury of a few, but dispense it amongst all as the. 
bread of life. Learn only how the ignorant may learn ; how 
the innocent may be preserved ; the vicious reclaimed. 

12. Call down the astronomer from the skies; call up the 
geologist from his subterranean explorations ; summon, if 
need be, the mightiest intellects from the council-chamber of 
the nation ; enter cloistered halls, where the scholiast muses 
over superfluous annotations; dissolve conclave and synod, 
where subtle polemics are vainly discussing their barren dog- 
mas ; collect whatever of talent, or erudition, or eloquence, or 
authority, the broad land can supply, and go forth and teach 
this people. For, in the name of the living God, it must be 
proclaimed, that licentiousness shall be the liberty ; and vio- 
lence and chicanery shall be the law ; and superstition and 
Craft shall be the religion ; and the self-destructive indulgence 
of all sensual and unhallowed passions, shall be the only hap- 
piness of that people who neglect the education of their 
children. 



LESSON XVII. 

the ocean's power. 



1. On! that the desert were my dwelling-place, 
With one fair spirit for my minister, 
That 1 might all forget the human race, 
And, hating no one, love but only her ! 
Ye elements ! in whose ennobling stir, 
I feel myself exalted, can ye not 
Accord me such a being ? Do I err 
In deeming such inhabit many a spot! 

Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot ? 



ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

2. There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 
There is a rapture on the lonely shore, 
There is society where none intrudes, 
By the deep sea, and music in its roar : 

I love not man the less, but nature more, 
From these our interviews, in which I steal 
From all I may be, or have been before, 
To mingle with the universe, and feel 
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 

3. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean — roll ! 
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain 
Man marks the earth with ruin — his control 
Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain 
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain 
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own ; 
When for a moment, like a drop of rain, 

He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, 
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. 

4. The armaments which thunderstrike the walls 
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, 
And monarchs tremble in their capitals, 

The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make 
Their clay creator the vain title take 
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war ! 
These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, 
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar 
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. 

5. Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — 
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they ? 
Thy waters wasted them, while they were free, 
And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey 

The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 89 

Has dried up realms to deserts : not so thou — 
Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play ; 
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow; 
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou roll est now. 

6. Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 
Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time, 
(Calm, or convulsed, in breeze, or gale, or storm, 
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
Dark-heaving,) boundless, endless, and sublime — 
The image of eternity — the throne 
Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime 
The monsters of the deep are made ! each zone 

Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 



LESSON XVHI. 
tell's address to the mountains. 



1. Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again! 
I hold to you the hands you first beheld, 
To show they still are free. Methinks I hear 
A spirit in your echoes answering me, 
And bid your tenant welcome to his home 
Again ! O, sacred forms, how proud you look ! 
How high you lift your heads into the sky ! 
How huge you are ! how mighty and how free ! 

% Ye are the things that tower, that shine — whose smile 
Makes glad — whose frown is terrible — whose forms, 
Kobed or unrobed, do all the impress wear 
Of awe divine. Ye guards of liberty \ 



90 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

I'm with you once again ! I call to you 
With all my voice ! I hold my hands to you 
To show they still are free. I rush to you, 
As though I could embrace you ! 



LESSON XIX. 

TRIBUTE TO THE TALENTS OF CHATHAM. 



1. Talents, whenever they have had a suitable theater, have 
never failed to emerge from obscurity, and assume their proper 
rank in the estimation of the world. The jealous pride of power 
may attempt to repress and crush them ; the base and malig- 
nant rancor of impatent spleen and envy may strive to embar- 
rass and retard their flight: but these efforts, so far from 
achieving their ignoble purpose, so far from producing a dis- 
cernible obliquity in the ascent of genuine and vigorous talents, 
will serve only to increase their momentum, and mark their 
transit with an additional stream of glory. 

2. When the great Earl of Chatham first made his appear- 
ance in the house of commons, and began to astonish and trans- 
port the British parliament and the British nation, by the bold- 
ness, the force, and range of his thoughts, and the celestial fire 
and pathos of his eloquence, it is well known that the minister, 
Walpole, and his brother Horace, from motives very easily un- 
derstood, exerted all their wit, all their oratory, a]l their ac- 
quirements, of every description, sustained and enforced by the 
unfeeling "insolence of office," to heave a mountain on his gi- 
gantic genius, and hide it from the world. Poor and power- 
less attempt ! 

3. The tables were turned. He rose upon them, in the 
might and irresistible energy of his genius, and in spite of all 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 91 

their convulsions, frantic agonies, and spasms, he strangled them 
and their whole faction, with as much ease as Hercules did the 
serpent Python. 

4. Who can turn over the debates of the day, and read the 
account of this conflict between youthful ardor and hoary- 
headed cunning and power, without kindling in the cause of 
the tyro, and shouting at his victory ? That they should have 
attempted to pass off the grand, yet solid and judicious opera- 
tions of a mind like his, as being mere theatrical start and emo- 
tion ; the giddy, hair-brained eccentricities of a romantic boy ! 
That they should have had the presumption to suppose them- 
selves capable of chaining down to the floor of the parliament a 
genius so ethereal, towering and sublime, seems unaccountable! 
Why did they not, in the next breath, by way of crowning the 
climax of vanity, bid the magnificent fire-ball to descend from 
its exalted and appropriate region, and perform its splendid 
tour along the surface of the earth 1 

5. Talents, which are before the public, have nothing to 
dread, either from the jealous pride of power, or from the tran- 
sient misrepresentations of party, spleen, or envy. In spite of 
opposition from any cause, their buoyant spirit will lift them to 
their proper grade. 

6. The man who comes fairly before the world, and who 
possesses the great and vigorous stamina which entitle him to 
a niche in the temple of glory, has no reason to dread the ulti- 
mate result; however slow his progress may be, he will, in the 
end, most indubitably receive that distinction ; while the rest, 
"the swallows of science," the butterflies of- genius, may flutter 
for their spring ; but they will soon pass away, and be remem- 
bered no more. 

7. No enterprising man, therefore, and, least of all, the truly 
great man, has reason to droop or repine at any efforts which 
he may suppose to be made with the view to depress him. 
Let, then, the tempest of envy or of malice howl around him. 



92 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

His genius will consecrate him ; and any attempt to extinguish 
that, will be as unavailing, as would a human effort " to quench 
the stars." 



LESSON XX. 

THE RAINBOW. 

CAMPBELL. 

1. The evening was glorious, and light through the trees 
Play'd the sunshine and rain-drops, the birds and the breeze, 
The landscape, outstretching in loveliness, lay 

On the lap of the year, in the beauty of May. 

2. For the queen of the spring, as she pass'd down the vale, 
Left her robe on the trees, and her breath on the gale ; 
And the smile of her promise gave joy to the hours, 
And flush in her footsteps sprang herbage and flowers. 

3. The skies, like a banner in sunset unroll'd, 

O'er the west threw their splendor of azure and gold ; 
But one cloud at a distance rose dense, and increas'd, 
Till its margin of black touch'd the zenith, and east. 

4. We gazed on the scenes, while around us they glow'd, 
When a vision of beauty appear'd on the cloud ; 
'Twas not like the sun, as at mid-day we view, 

Nor the moon, that rolls nightly through star-light and blue. 

5. Like a spirit, it came in the van of a storm ! 

And the eye, and the heart, hail'd its beautiful form ; 
For it look'd not severe, like an angel of wrath, 
But its garments of brightness illumed its dark path. 

6. In the hues of its grandeur, sublimely it stood, 
O'er the river, the village, the field, and the wood ; 
And river, field, village, and woodlands grew bright, 
As conscious they gave and afforded delight. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 93 

7. 'Twas the bow of Omnipotence, bent in His hand, 
Whose grasp at creation the universe spann'd ; 
'Twas the presence of God, in a symbol sublime, 
His vow from the flood to the exit of time. 

8. Not dreadful, as when in the whirlwind he pleads, 
When storms are his chariot, and lightnings his steeds, 
The black clouds his banner of vengeance unfurl'd, 
And thunder his voice to a guilt-stricken world ; 

9. In the breath of his presence, when thousands expire, 
And seas boil with fury, and rocks burn with fire, [plain, 
And the sword and the plague-spot, with death strew the 
And vultures, and wolves, are the graves of the slain. 

10. Not such was the Rainbow, that beautiful one ! 
Whose arch was refraction, its keystone, the sun ; 
A pavilion it seem'd, which the Deity graced, 
And justice and mercy met there, and embraced. 

1 1 . Awhile, and it sweetly bent over the gloom, 

Like love o'er a death-couch, or hope o'er the tomb ; 
Then left the dark scene ; whence it slowly retired, 
As love had just vanished, or hope had expired. 

12. I gazed not alone on that source of my song ; 
To all who beheld it these verses belong ; 

Its presence to all was the path of the Lord ! 
Each full heart expanded, grew warm, and adored. 

13. Like a visit — the converse of friends — or a day, 
That bow, from my sight, passed forever away: 
Like that visit, that converse, that day to my heart, 
That bow from remembrance can never depart. 

14. 'Tis a picture in memory distinctly defined, 
With the strong and unperishing colors of mind : 
A part of my being beyond my control, 
Beheld on that cloud, and transcribed on my soul. 



94 ELOCtTTlON AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XXI. 

THE MORAL EFFCTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 



1. The sufferings of animal nature occasioned by intempe- 
rance, my friends, are not to be compared with the moral ago- 
nies which convulse the soul. It is an immortal being, who 
sins and suffers ; and, as his earthly house dissolves, he is ar> 
proaching the judgment-seat, in anticipation of a miserable eter- 
nity. He feels his captivity, and in anguish of spirit clanks his 
chain and cries for help. Conscience thunders, remorse goads, 
and, as the gulf opens before him, he recoils, and trembles, and 
weeps, and prays, and resolves, and promises, and reforms, and 
" seeks it yet again," again resolves, and weeps, and prays, and 
" seeks it yet again ! " 

2. Wretched man ! he has placed himself in the hands of a 
giant, who never pities, and never relaxes his iron gripe. He 
may struggle, but he is in chains. He may cry for release, but 
it comes not; and lost! lost! may be inscribed upon the door- 
posts of his dwelling. 

3. In the meantime, these paroxysms of his dying moral na- 
ture decline, and a fearful apathy, the harbinger of spiritual 
death, comes on. His resolution fails, and his mental energy, 
and his vigorous enterprise ; and nervous irritation and depres- 
sion ensue. The social affections lose their fullness and tender- 
ness, and the conscience loses its power, and the heart its sen- 
sibility, until all that was once lovely and of good report re- 
tires, and leaves the wretch abandoned to the appetites of a 
ruined animal. 

4. In this deplorable condition, reputation expires, business 
falters and becomes perplexed, and temptations to drink mul- 
tiply, as inclination to do so increases, and the power of resist- 
ance declines. And now the vortex roars, and the struggling 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 95 

victim buffets the fiery wave with feebler stroke, and v/aning 
supplication, until despair flashes upon his soul, and, with an 
outcry that pierces the heavens, he ceases to strive, and dis- 
appears. 



lesson xxn. 



1. It must be so : Plato, thou reasonest well ! 
Else, whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire. 
This longing after immortality % 

Or, whence this secret dread, and inward horror, 
Of falling into nought 1 Why shrinks the soul 
Back on herself, and startles at destruction % 
'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us : 
'Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, 
And intimates eternity to man. 

2. Eternity ! thou pleasing, dreadful thought ! 
Through what variety of untried being, 

Through what new scenes and changes must we pass! 
The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me ; 
But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. 

3. Here will I hold. If there's a power above us, 
(And that there is, all nature cries aloud, 
Through all her works,) He must delight in virtue : 
And that which he delights in must be happy. 

But when % or where % This world was made for Caesar ! 
I'm weary of conjectures : this must end them. 

[Laying his hand on his sword. 



96 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

4. Thus, I am doubly armed. My death and life. 
My bane and antidote, are both before me. 
This in a moment brings me to an end ; 
But this informs me I shall never die. 
The soul, secured in her existence, smiles 
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point. 
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself 
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years ; 
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, 
Unhurt, amidst the war of elements, 
The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. 



LESSON XXIII. 

THE WIFE. 

WASHINGTON IRVING. 

The treasures of the deep are not so precious 
As are the concealed comforts of a man 
Locked up in woman's love. I scent the air 
Of blessings when I come but near the house. 
What a delicious breath marriage sends forth! — 
The violet bed's not sweeter. — Middleton. 

1. I have often had occasion to remark the fortitude with 
which women sustain the most overwhelming reverses of for- 
tune. Those disasters which break down the spirit of a man, 
and prostrate him in the dust, seem to call forth all the ener- 
gies of the softer sex, and give such intrepidity and elevation 
to their character, that at times it approaches to sublimity. 

2. These observations call to mind a little domestic story, 
of which I was once a witness. My intimate friend, Leslie, 
had married a beautiful and accomplished girl, who had been 
brought up in the midst of fashionable life. She had, it is 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 97 

true, no fortune ; but that of my friend was ample, and he de- 
lighted in the anticipation of indulging her in every elegant 
pursuit, and administering to those delicate tastes and fancies 
that spread a kind of witchery about the sex. " Her life," 
said he, "shall be like a fairy tale." 

3. ■ The very difference in their characters produced an har- 
monious combination ; he was of a romantic and somewhat 
serious cast ; she was all life and gladness. I have often no- 
ticed the mute rapture with which he would gaze upon her 
in company, of which her sprightly powers made her the de- 
light; and how, in the midst of applause, her eye would 
still turn to him, as if there alone she sought favor and ac- 
ceptance. 

4. When leaning on his arm, her slender form contrasted 
finely with his tall, manly, person. The fond, confiding air 
with which she looked up to him seemed to call forth a flush 
of triumphant pride and cherishing tenderness, as if he doted 
on his lovely burden for its very helplessness. Never did a 
couple set forward on the flowery path of early and well-suited 
marriage with a fairer prospect of felicity. 

5. It was the misfortune of my friend, however, to have em- 
barked his property in large speculations ; and he had not been 
married many months, when, by a succession of sudden disas- 
ters, it was swept from him, and he found himself reduced al- 
most to penury. For a time he kept his situation to himself, 
and went about with a haggard countenance, and a breaking 
neart. His life was but a protracted agony ; and what ren- 
dered it more insupportable was the necessity of keeping up a 
smile in the presence of his wife ; for he could not bring him- 
self to overwhelm her with the news. 

6. She saw, however, with the quick eyes of affection, that 
all was not well with him. She marked his altered looks and 
stifled sighs, and was not to be deceived by his sickly and vapid 
attempts at cheerfulness. She tasked all her sprightly powers 

E 7 



98 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

and tender blandishments to win him back to happiness ; but 
she only drove the arrow deeper into his soul. The more he 
saw cause to love her, the more torturing was the thought that 
he was soon to make her wretched. 

7. A little while, thought he, and the smile will vanish from 
that cheek — the song will die away from those lips — the luster 
of those eyes will be quenched with sorrow ; and the happy 
heart, which now beats lightly in that bosom, will be weighed 
down, like mine, by the cares and miseries of the world. At 
length, he came to me one day, and related his whole situation, 
in a tone of the deepest despair. 

8. When I heard him through, I inquired, " Does your wife 
know all this ? " At the question he burst into an agony of 
tears. " For God's sake ! " cried he, " if you have any pity on 
me, don't mention my wife; it is the thought of her that drives 
me almost to madness ! " " And why not 1 " said I. " She 
must know it, sooner or later ; you cannot keep it long from 
her, and the intelligence may break upon her in a more start- 
ling manner than if imparted by yourself; for the accents of 
those \?e love soften the harshest tidings. 

9. " Besides, you are depriving yourself of the comforts of 
her sympathy ; and not merely that, but also endangering the 
only bond that can keep hearts together — an unreserved com- 
munity of thought and feeling. She will soon perceive that 
something is secretly preying upon your mind ; and true 
love will not brook reserve ; it feels undervalued and out- 
raged, when even the sorrows of those it loves are concealed 
from it." 

10. " O, but, my friend ! to think what a blow I am to give to 
all her future prospects — how I am to strike her very soul to 
the earth, by telling her that her husband is a beggar ! that she 
is to forego all the elegances of life — all the pleasures of soci- 
ety — to shrink with me into indigence and obscurity ! To tell 
her that I have dragged her down from the sphere in which she 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 99 

might have continued to move in constant brightness, the light 
of every eye, the admiration of every heart ! How can she 
bear poverty 1 she has been brought up in all the refinements 
of opulence. How can she bear neglect 1 she has been the 
idol of society. O ! it will break her heart — it will break her 
heart!" 

11. I saw his grief was eloquent, and I let it have its 
flow; for sorrow relieves itself by words. When his par- 
oxysm had subsided, and he had relapsed into moody silence, 
I resumed the subject, and urged him to break his situation 
at once to his wife. He shook his head mournfully, but 
positively. 

12. " But how are you to keep it from her 1 It is neces- 
sary she should know it, that you may take the steps proper 
to the alteration of your circumstances. You must cLtnge 

your style of living, nay" observing a pang to pass across 

his countenance, " don't let that afflict you. I am sure you 
have never placed your happiness in outward show ; you have 
yet friends, warm friends, who will not think the worse of you 
for being less splendidly lodged : and surely, it does not re- 
quire a palace to be happy with Mary " — 

13. "I could be happy with her," cried he, convulsively, " in 
a hovel ! — I could go down with her into poverty and the dust 
I could — I could — God bless her ! — God bless her ! " cried he, 
bursting into a transport of grief and tenderness. 

14. " And, believe me, my friend," said I, stepping up, and 
grasping him warmly by the hand, " believe me, she can be the 
same with you. Ay, more: it will be a source of pride and tri- 
umph to her ; it will call forth all the latent energies and fervent 
sympathies of her nature ; for she will rejoice to prove that she 
loves you for yourself. There is in every true woman's heart 
a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad day- 
light of prosperity, but which kindles up, and beams, and blazes 
in the dark hour of adversity. 



100 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

15. " No man knows what the wife of his bosom is — no 
man knows what a ministering angel she is, until he has gone 
with her through the fiery trials of this world." There "was 
something in the earnestness of my manner, and the figurative 
style of my language, that caught the excited imagination of 
Leslie. I knew the auditor I had to deal with ; and, following 
up the impression I had made, I finished by persuading him to 
go home and unburden his sad heart to his wife. 



LESSON XXIV. 

THE SAME SUBJECT CONCLUDED. 

1. I must confess, notwithstanding all I had said, I felt some 
little solicitude for the result. Who can calculate on the for- 
titude of one whose whole life has been a round of pleasure % 
Her gay spirits might revolt at the dark, downward path of 
low humility, suddenly pointed out before her, and might cling 
to the sunny regions in which they had hitherto reveled. Be- 
sides ruin in fashionable life is accompanied by so many gall- 
ing mortifications, to which in other ranks it is a stranger. In 
short, I could not meet Leslie, the next morning, without 
trepidation. 

2. He had made the disclosure. " And how did she bear 
it % " " Like an angel ! It seemed rather to be a relief to her 
mind, for she threw her arms around my neck, and asked if this 
was all that had lately made me unhappy. But, poor girl ! " 
added he, " she cannot realize the change we must undergo. 
She has no idea of poverty, but in the abstract ; she has only 
read of it in poetry, where it is allied to love. 

3. " She feels as yet no privation ; she suffers no loss of ac- 
customed conveniences nor elegance. When we come practi- 
cally to experience its sordid cares, its paltry wants, its petty 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 101 

humiliations, then will be the real trial." " But," said I, "now 
that you have got over the severest task — that of breaking it 
to her — the sooner you let the world into the secret, the better. 
The disclosure may be mortifying ; but then it is a single mis- 
ery, and soon over ; whereas you otherwise suffer it, in antici- 
pation, every hour in the day. 

4. " It is not poverty so much as pretense that harasses a 
ruined man — the struggle between a proud mind and an empty 
purse — the keeping up a hollow show, that must soon come 
to an end. Have the courage to appear poor, and you dis- 
arm poverty of its sharpest sting." On this point I found Les- 
lie perfectly prepared. He had no false pride himself; and 
as to his wife, she was only anxious to conform to their altered 
fortunes. 

5. Some days afterward, he called upon me in the evening. 
He had disposed of his dwelling-house, and taken a small cot- 
tage in the country, a few miles from town. He had been 
busied all day in sending out furniture. The new establishment 
required few articles, and those of the simplest kind. All the 
splendid furniture of his late residence had been sold, excepting 
his wife's harp. 

6. That, he said, was too closely associated with the idea of 
herself; it belonged to the little story of their loves ; for some 
of the sweetest moments of their courtship were those when he 
had leaned over that instrument, and listened to the melting 
tones of her voice. I could not but smile at this instance of 
romantic gallantry in a doting husband. 

7. He was going out to the cottage, where his wife had been 
all day, superintending its arrangement. My feelings had be- 
come strongly interested in the progress of the family story, 
and, as it was a fine evening, I offered to accompany him. He 
was wearied with the fatigues of the day, and, as he walked out, 
fell into a fit of gloomy musing. 

8. " Poor Mary ! " at length broke, with a heavy sigh, from 



102 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

his lips. "And what of her ?" asked I ; "has anything hap- 
pened to her % " " What ! " said he, darting an impatient glance, 
" is it nothing to be reduced to this paltry situation — to be 
caged in a miserable cottage — to be obliged to toil almost in 
the menial concerns of her wretched habitation 1 " 

9. " Has she, then, repined at the change ? " " Repined ! 
she has been nothing but sweetness and good humor. Indeed, 
she seems in better spirits than I have ever known her ; she 
has been to me all love, and tenderness, and comfort ! " "Ad- 
mirable girl ! " exclaimed I. " You call yourself poor, my 
friend ; you never were so rich — you never knew the bound- 
less treasures of excellence you possess in that woman." 

10. " O ! but, my friend, if this, our first meeting at the cot- 
tage, were over, I think I could then be comfortable. But this 
is her first day of real experience ; she has been introduced into 
an humble dwelling; she has been employed all day in ar- 
ranging its miserable equipments ; she has, for the first time, 
known the fatigues of domestic employment ; she has, for the 
first time, looked round her on a home destitute of everything 
elegant — almost of everything convenient; and may now be 
sitting down, exhausted and spiritless, brooding over a prospect 
of future poverty." 

11. There was a degree of probability in this picture that I 
could not gainsay ; so we walked on in silence. After turning 
from the main road -up a narrow lane, so thickly shaded with 
forest trees as to give it a complete air of seclusion, we came 
in sight of the cottage. It was humble enough in its appear- 
ance for the most pastoral poet ; and yet it had a pleasing, ru- 
ral look. A wild vine had overrun one end with a profusion 
of foliage; a few trees threw their branches gracefully over it; 
and I observed several pots of flowers tastefully disposed about 
the door, and on the grass-plot in front. 

12. A small wicket-gate opened upon a foot-path that wound 
through some shrubbery to the door. Just as we approached, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 103 

we heard the sound of music. Leslie grasped my arm ; we 
paused and listened. It was Mary's voice, singing, in a style 
of the most touching simplicity, a little air of which her hus- 
band was peculiarly fond. I felt Leslie's hand tremble on my 
arm. He stepped forward, to hear more distinctly. His step 
made a noise on the gravel walk. 

13. A bright, beautiful face glanced out at the window and 
vanished, a light footstep was heard, and Mary came tripping 
forth to meet us. She was in a pretty rural dress of white ; a 
few wild flowers were twisted in her fine hair ; a fresh bloom 
was on her cheek ; her whole countenance beamed with smiles ; 
I had never seen her look so lovely. 

14. " My dear George," cried she, " I am so glad you are 
come ! I have been watching and watching for you ; and run- 
ning down the lane, and looking out for you. I've set out a 
table under a beautiful tree behind the cottage; and I've been 
gathering some of the most delicious strawberries, for I know 
you are fond of them — and we have such excellent cream — and 
everything is so sweet and still here ! O ! " said she, putting 
her arm within his, and looking up brightly in his face, " oh, 
we shall be so happy ! " 

15. Poor Leslie was overcome. He caught her to his 
bosom, he folded his arms around her, he kissed her again and 
again ; he could not speak, but the tears gushed into his eyes ; 
and he has often assured me, that, though the world has since 
gone prosperously with him, and his life has, indeed, been a 
happy one, yet never has he experienced a moment of more 
exquisite felicity. 



104 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XXV. 

HOPE TRIUMPHANT IN DEATH. 



1. Unfading hope ! when life's last embers burn, 
When soul to soul, and dust to dust return, 
Heav'n to thy charge resigns the awful hour ! 

Oh ! then thy kingdom comes ! Immortal Power ! 
"What though each spark of earth-born rapture fly 
The quivering lip, pale cheek, and closing eye ! 
Bright to the soul thy seraph hands convey 
The morning dream of life's eternal day: 
Then, then the triumph of the trance begin ! 
And all thy Phoenix spirit burns within ! 

2. Oh ! deep-enchanting prelude to repose, 
The dawn of bliss, the twilight of our woes — 
Yet half I hear the parting spirit sigh, 

It is a dread, an awful thing to die ! 
Mysterious worlds, untravel'd by the sun ! 
Where time's far-wand'ring tide has never run, 
From your unfathom'd shades, and viewless spheres, 
A warning comes, unheard by other ears. 

3. 'Tis Heaven's commanding trumpet long and loud, 
Like Sinai's thunder, pealing from the cloud ! 
While nature hears with terror-mingled trust, 

The shock that hurls her fabric to the dust ; 
And, like the trembling Hebrew, when he trod 
The roaring waves, and called upon his God, 
With mortal terrors cJouds immortal bliss, 
And shrieks, and hovers o'er the dark abyss ! 

4. Daughter of faith, awake, arise, illume 

The dread unknown, the chaos of the tomb ! 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 105 

Melt and dispel, ye specter doubts, that roll 
Cimmerian darkness on the parting soul ! 
Ply, like the moon-ey'd herald of dismay, 
Chas'd on his night-steed by the star of day ! 
The strife is o'er— the pangs of nature close, 
And life's last rapture triumphs o'er her woes. 

5. Hark ! as the spirit eyes, with eagle gaze, 
The noon of heaven, undazzled by the blaze, 
On heavenly winds that waft her to the sky, 
Float the sweet tones of star-born melody ; 
Wild as that hallowed anthem sent to hail 
Bethlehem's shepherds in the lonely vale, 
When Jordan hush'd his waves, and midnight still 
Watch'd on the holy towers of Zion's hill ! 

6. Soul of the just ! companion of the dead ! 
Where is thy home, and whither art thou fled ? 
Back to its heavenly source thy being goes, 
Swift as the comet wheels to whence he rose ; 
Doom'd on his airy path awhile to burn, 
And doom'd, like thee, to travel, and return. 
Hark ! from the world's exploding center driven, 
With sounds that shock the^firmament of heaven, 
Careers the fiery giant, fast and far, 

On bickering wheels, and adamantine car. 

7. From planet whirl'd to planet more remote, 
He visits realms beyond the reach of thought; 
But wheeling homeward, when his course is run, 
Curbs the red yoke, and mingles with the sun ! 
So hath the traveler of earth unfurl'd 

Her trembling wings, emerging from the world ; 
And, o'er the path by mortal never trod, 
Sprung to her source, the bosom of her God ! 
E* 



106 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XXVI. 

THE CHAMBER OF SICKNESS TWO VOICES. 

ANONYMOUS. 

First Voice. 

1. How awful the place — how gloomy — how chilli 
Where the pangs of disease are lingering still, 

And the life-pulse is fluttering in death. 

Second Voice. 

2. How delightful the place — how peaceful — how bright ! 
There, calmly and sweetly, the taper's soft light 

Shines — an image of man's fleeting breath. 

First Voice. 

3. There the angel of death on the vitals is preying, 
While beauty and loveliness fast are decaying, 

And life's joys are all fading away. 

Second Voice. 

4. There the spirits of mercy round the pillow are flying, 
As the angel-smile plays on the lips of the dying, 

And hope cheers the soul with her ray. 
First Voice. 

5. How the spirit is pained^e'en when loved ones are near, 
Or sympathy bathes its lone couch with a tear ; 

Its hopes are all dead — its joy is despair. 

Second Voice. 

6. How the holiest endearments that kindred souls cherish, 
Though the mortal decay and its graces all perish, 

Are perfected and purified there. 
First Voice. 

7. How ghastly the visage of death doth appear, 

How frightful the thought of the shroud and the bier, 
And the blood-crested worm how vile ! 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 107 

Second Voice. 

8. How friendly the hand that faith is now lending, 
How benignant her look o'er the pillow while bending, 

How sweet, how assuring her smile ! 

First Voice. 

9. There, in triumph, the death-knell is fitfully pealing, 
While the shivering chill to the cold heart is stealing, 

And the life-current warms — no — never — 

Second Voice. 
10. Hear the joy-speaking voice of some angel calling, 
As the visions of heaven on the rapt soul are falling, 
And hope is fruition forever. 



lesson xxvn. 

EULOGY ON SOUTH CAROLINA. 



1. I shall make no professions of zeal for the interests and 
honor of South Carolina ; of that, my constituents shall judge. 
If there be one state in the Union, Mr. President, (and I say it 
not in a boastful spirit,) that may challenge comparisons with 
any other, for a uniform, zealous, ardent, and uncalculating de- 
votion to the Union, that state is South Carolina. Sir, from 
the very commencement of the revolution, up to this hour, there 
is no sacrifice, however great, she has not cheerfully made — no 
service she has ever hesitated to perform. She has adhered to 
you in your prosperity; but in your adversity she has clung to 
you with more than filial affection. 

2. No matter what was the condition of her domestic affairs 
— though deprived of her resources, divided by parties, or sur- 
rounded with difficulties, the call of the country has been to her 



108 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

as the voice of God. Domestic discord ceased at the sound — 
every man became at once reconciled to his brethren, and the 
sons of Carolina were all seen crowding together to the temple, 
bringing their gifts to the altar of their country. 

3. What was the conduct of the south during the revolu- 
tion 1 Sir, I honor New England for her conduct in that glo- 
rious struggle. But great as is the praise which belongs to 
her, I think at least equal honor is due to the south. They es- 
poused the quarrel of their brethren, with a generous zeal, which 
did not suffer them to stop to calculate their interests in the dis- 
pute. Favorites of the mother country, possessed of neither 
ships nor seamen to create a commercial rivalry, they might 
have found in their situation a guarantee that their trade would 
be forever fostered and protected by Great Britain. But, 
trampling on all considerations, either of interest or safety, they 
rushed into the conflict, and fighting for principle, periled all in 
the sacred cause of freedom. 

4. Never was there exhibited, in the history of the world, 
higher examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, and heroic 
endurance, than by the whigs of Carolina, during the revolution. 
The whole state, from the mountains to the sea, was overrun 
by an overwhel ming force of the enemy. The fruits of industry 
perished on the spot where they were produced, or were con- 
sumed by the foe. The " plains of Carolina " drank up the 
most precious blood of her citizens. Black and smoking ru- 
ins marked the places which had been the habitations of her 
children ! Driven from their homes, into the gloomy and al- 
most impenetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty sur- 
vived, and South Carolina, (sustained by the example of her 
Sumpters and her Marions,) proved, by her conduct, that 
though her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people was 
invincible. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 109 

LESSON XXYITI. 

EULOGY OX MASSACHUSETTS. 



1. The eulogium pronounced on the character of the state 
of South Carolina, by the honorable gentleman, for her revolu- 
tionary and other merits, meets my hearty concurrence. I 
shall not acknowledge that the houorable member goes be- 
fore me in regard for whatever of distinguished talent, or dis- 
tinguished character, South Carolina has produced. 

2. I claim part of the honor, I partake in the pride, of her 
great names. I claim them for countrymen, one and all, the 
Laurenses, the Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumpters, the Ma- 
rions, Americans all, whose fame is no more to be hemmed in- 
by state lines, than their talents and patriotism were capable 
of being circumscribed within the same narrow limits. 

3. In their day and generation, they served and honored the 
country, and the whole country ; and their renown is of the 
treasures of the whole country. Him whose honored name the 
gentleman himself bears — does he esteem me less capable of 
gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy for his sufferings, than 
if his eyes had first opened upon the light of Massachusetts, in- 
stead of South Carolina 1 

4. Sir, does he suppose it in his power to exhibit a Car- 
olina name so bright, as to produce envy in my bosom ? 
No, sir, increased gratification and delight, rather. I thank 
God, that, if I am gifted with little of the spirit which is able 
to raise mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as I trust, of that 
other spirit, which would drag angels down. 

5. When I shall be found, sir, in my place here in the sen- 
ate, or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit, because it happens 
to spring up beyond the little limits of my own state or neigh- 
borhood ; when I refuse, for any such cause, or for any cause, 



110 ELOCU1/.ON AND ORATORY. 

the homage due to American talent, to elevated patriotism, to 
sincere devotion to liberty and the country ; or, if I see an un- 
common endowment of Heaven, if I see extraordinary capacity 
and virtue, in any son of the south, and if, moved by local 
prejudice or gangrened by state jealousy, I get up here to abate 
the tithe of a hair from his just character and just fame, may 
my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth ! 

6. Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections ; let me indulge 
in refreshing remembrance of the past ; let me remind you that, 
in early times, no states cherished greater harmony, both of 
principle and feeling, than Massachusetts and South Carolina. 
Would to God that harmony might again return ! Shoulder 
to shoulder they went through the revolution, hand in hand they 
stood round the administration of Washington, and felt his own 
great arm lean on them for support. Unkind feeling, if it ex- 
ists, alienation, and distrust are the growth, unnatural to such 
soils, of false principles since sown. They are weeds, the seeds 
of which that same great arm never scattered. 

7. Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Massa- 
chusetts ; she needs none. There she is. Behold her, and judge 
for yourselves. There is her history ; the world knows it by 
heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and 
Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill ; and there they will 
remain forever. The bones of her sons, falling in the great 
struggle for independence, now lie mingled with the soil of 
every state from New England to Georgia ; and there they 
will lie forever. 

8. And, sir, where American liberty raised its first voice, 
and where its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still 
lives, in the strength of its manhood and full of its original 
spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it, if party strife 
and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it, if folly and 
madness, if uneasiness under salutary and necessary restraint, 
shall succeed in separating it from that Union, by which alone 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. HI 

its existence is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by the side 
of that 'cradle in which its infancy was rocked; it will stretch 
forth its arm, with whatever of vigor it may still retain over 
the friends who gather round it ; and it will fall at last, if fall 
it must, amidst the proudest monuments of its own glory, and 
on the very spot of its origin ! 



LESSON XXIX. 

THE VULTURE AND THE CAPTIVE INFANT. 

ANON. 

1. I've been among the mighty Alps, and wandered through their 

vales, 
And heard the honest mountaineers relate their dismal tales, 
As round the cotter's blazing hearth, when their daily work was 

o'er, 
They spake of those who disappeared, and ne'er were heard of 

more. 

2. And there, I, from a shepherd, heard a narrative of fear, 

A tale to rend a mortal heart, which mothers might not hear: 
The tears were standing in his eyes, his voice was tremulous, 
But wiping all those tears away, he told his story thus : 

3. " It is among these barren cliffs the ravenous vulture dwells, 
Who never fattens on the prey which from afar he smells , 
But, patient, watching hour on hour, upon a lofty rock, 

He singles out some truant lamb, a victim from the flock. 

4. " One cloudless Sabbath summer morn, the sun was rising high, 
When, from my children on the green, I heard a fearful cry, 

As if some awful deed were done, a shriek of grief and pain, 
A cry, I humbly trust in God, I ne'er may hear again. 

6. "I hurried out to learn the cause, but, overwhelmed with fright, 
The children never ceased to shriek, and, from my frenzied sight, 
I missed the yoiingest of my babes, the dai'ling of my care; 
But something caught my searching eyes, slow sailing through 
the air. 



112 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

6. "Oh ! what an awful spectacle to meet a father's eye,— • 
His infant made a vulture's prey, with terror to descry ; 
And know, with agonizing heart, and with a maniac rave, • 
That earthly power could not avail, that innocent to save ! 

t J. " My infant stretched his little hands imploringly to me, 
And struggled with the ravenous bird, all vainly to get free! 
At intervals I heard his cries, as loud he shrieked and screamed! 
Until, upon the azure sky, a lessening sjDot he seemed. 

8. " The vulture flapped his sail-like wings, though heavily he flew, 
A mote upon the sun's bright face, he seemed unto my view ; 
But once I thought I saw him stoop, as if he would alight, — 
'Twas only a delusive thought, for all had vanished quite. 

9. " All search was vain, and years had passed, — that child was ne'er 
. forgot, 
When once a daring hunter climbed unto a lofty spot, 
From thence upon a rugged crag the chamois never reached, 
He saw an infant's fleshless bones — the elements had bleached ! 

10. " J clambered up that rugged cliff, — I could not stay away, — 
I knew they were my infant's bones, thus hastening to decay ; 
A tattered garment yet remained, though torn to many a shred ; 
The crimson cap he wore that morn, was still upon his head." 

11. That dreary spot is pointed out to travelers passing by, 
"Who often stand, and musing, gaze, nor go without a sigh ; 
And as I journeyed the next morn along my sunny way, 
The precipice was shown to me, whereon the infant lay.- 



LESSON XXX. 

MARCO BOZZARIS. 

HALLEOK. 

His last words were — "To die for liberty is a pleasure and not a pain.'' 

1. At midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk was dreaming of the hour, 
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 
Should tremble at his power. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. H3 

In dreams through camp and court he bore 
The trophies of a conqueror ; 

In dreams his song of triumph heard ; 
Then wore his monarch's signet ring, 
Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king ; 
As wild his thoughts and gay of wing, 

As Eden's garden bird. 

2. An hour passed on — the Turk awoke ; 

That bright dream was his last : 
He woke ! to hear his sentry's shriek, 
" To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek ! * 
He woke ! to die midst flame and smoke. 
And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke, 

And death-shots falling thick and fast 
As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; 
And heard with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band : — 
" Strike ! till the last armed foe expires, 
Strike ! for your altars and your fires, 
Strike ! for the green graves of your sires, 
God — and your native land ! " 

3. They fought like brave men, long and well, 

They piled that ground with Moslem slain j 
They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, 

Bleeding at every vein. 
His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile when rang their proud hurrah, 

And the red field was won. 

8 



114 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XXXI. 

CHARACTER OF CLAY. 



1. He was indeed eloquent — all the world knows that. He 
held the keys to the hearts of his countrymen, and he turned the 
wards within them with a skill attained by no other master. But 
eloquence was nevertheless only an instrument, and one of many 
that he used. His conversation, his gestures, his very look, was 
magisterial, persuasive, seductive, irresistible. And his appli- 
ance of all these was courteous, patient, and indefatigable. 

2; Defeat only inspired him with Hew resolution. He divi- 
ded opposition by his assiduity of address, while he rallied and 
strengthened his own bands of supporters by the confidence of 
success which, feeling himself, he easily inspired among his fol- 
lowers. His affections were high, and pure, and generous, and 
the chiefest among them was that one which the great Italian 
poet designated as the charity of native land. In him that 
charity was an enduring and overpowering enthusiasm, and it 
influenced all his sentiments and conduct, rendering him more 
impartial between conflicting interests and sections, than any 
other statesman who has lived since the revolution. 

3. Thus with great versatility of talent, and the most catho- 
lic equality of favor, he identified every question, whether of 
domestic administration or foreign policy, with his own great 
name, and so became a perpetual Tribune of the people. He 
needed only to pronounce in favor of a measure or against it, 
here, and immediately popular enthusiasm, excited as by a ma- 
gic wand, was felt, overcoming and dissolving all opposition in 
the senate-chamber. 

4. In this way he wrought a change in our political system, 
that I think was not foreseen by its founders. He converted 
this branch of the legislature from a negative position, or one 
of equilibrium between the executive and the house of repre- 



RHETORICAL. CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 115 

sentatives, into the active, ruling power of the republic. Only- 
time can disclose whether this great innovation shall be benefi- 
cent, or even permanent. 

5. Certainly, sir, the great lights of the senate have set. 
The obscuration is no less palpable to the country than to us, 
who are left to grope our uncertain way here, as in a labyrinth, 
oppressed with self-distrust. The time, too, presents new em- 
barrassments. We are rising to another and more sublime 
stage of national progress — that of expanding wealth and 
rapid territorial aggrandizement. 

6. Our institutions throw a broad shadow across the St. 
Lawrence, and, stretching beyond the valley of Mexico, reach 
even to the plains of Central America, while the Sandwich 
Islands and the shores of China recognize their renovating in- 
fluence. Wherever that influence is felt, a desire for protec- 
tion under those institutions is awakened. Expansion seems to 
be regulated not by any difficulties of resistance, but by the 
moderation which results from our. own internal constitution. 
No one knows how rapidly that restraint may give way. Who 
can tell how far or how fast it ought to yield % 

7. Commerce has brought the ancient continents near to us, 
and created necessities for new positions — perhaps connections 
or colonies there — and with the trade and friendship of the 
elder nations their conflicts and collisions are brought to our 
doors and to our hearts. Our sympathy kindles, or indifference 
extinguishes, the fires of freedom in foreign lands. Before we 
shall be fully conscious that a change is going on in Europe, we 
may find ourselves once more divided by that eternal line of 
separation that leaves on the one side those of our citizens who 
obey the impulses of sympathy, while on the other are found 
those who submit only to the counsels of prudence. Even pru- 
dence will soon be required to decide whether distant regions, east 
and west, shall come under our own protection, or be left to 
aggrandize a rapidly spreading domain of hostile despotism. 



116 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

8. Sir, who among us is equal to these mighty questions 1 
I fear there is no one. Nevertheless, the example of Henry 
Clay remains for our instruction. His genius has passed to the 
realms of light, but his virtues still live here for our emula- 
tion. With them there will remain also the protection and 
favor of the Most High, if by the practice of justice and the 
maintenance of freedom we shall deserve them. 

9. Let, then, the bier pass on. We will follow with sorrow, 
but not without hope, the reverend form that it bears to its final 
resting place ; and then, when that grave opens at our feet to 
receive so estimable a treasure, we will invoke the God of our 
fathers to send us new guides, like him that is now withdrawn, 
and give us wisdom to obey their instructions. 



LESSON XXXII. 

RIENZl's ADDRESS TO THE MEN OF ROME. 

MISS MTTFOBD. 

1. Friends, 

I come not here talk. Ye know too well 

The story of our thralldom : — we are slaves ! 

The bright sun rises to his course, and lights 

A race of slaves! He sets, and his last beam 

Falls on a slave ; — not such as, swept along 

By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads 

To crimson glory and undying fame ; 

But base, ignoble slaves — slaves to a horde 

Of petty tyrants, feudal despots, lords, 

Rich in some dozen paltry villages — 

Strong in some hundred spearmen — only great 

In that strange spell, a name. Each hour, dark fraud, 

Or open rapine, or protected murder, 

Cries out against them. But this very day, 



RHETORICAL. CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 117 

An honest man, my neighbor — there he stands — 

Was struck — struck like a dog, by one who wore 

The badge of Ursini ; because, forsooth, 

He tossed not high his ready cap in air, 

Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, 

At sight of that great ruffian. Be we men, 

And suffer such dishonor ] men, and wash not 

The stain away in blood 1 Such shames are common. 

2. I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to you, 
I had a brother once, a gracious boy, 
Full of gentleness, of calmest hope, 
Of sweet and quiet joy ; there was the look 
Of heaven upon his face, which limners give 
To the beloved disciple. How I loved 
That gracious boy ! Younger by fifteen years, 
Brother at once and son ! He left my side, 
A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, a smile 
Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour, 
The pretty, harmless boy was slain ! I saw 
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 
For vengeance % Rouse, ye Romans ! rouse, ye slaves ! 
Have ye brave sons ] Look, in the next fierce brawl, 
To see them die. Have ye daughters fair 1 Look 
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, 
Dishonored ; and, if ye dare call for justice, 
Be answered by the lash. Yet this is Rome, 
That sat on her seven hills, and, from her throne 
Of beauty, ruled the world ! Yet we are Romans ! 
Why, in that elder day to be a Roman 
Was greater than a king ! And once, again, — 
Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread 
Of either Brutus ! — once again, I swear, 
The eternal city shall be free ! 



118 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 



LESSON XXXIII. 



SOLILOQUY FROM MANFRED. 
BTEON. 

1. The spirits I have raised abandon me — 
The spells which I have studied baffle me— 
The remedy I recked of tortured me ; 

I lean no more on superhuman aid, 

It hath no power upon the past, and for 

The future, till the past be gulfed in darkness, 

It is not of my search. My mother earth ! 

And thou, fresh breaking day ; and you, ye mountains, 

Why are ye beautiful ? I cannot love ye. 

2. And thou, the bright eye of the universe, 
That openest over all, and unto all 

Art a delight — thou shinest not on my heart. 
And you, ye crags, upon whose extreme edge 
I stand, and on the torrent's brink beneath 
Behold the tall pines dwindle as to shrubs 
In dizziness of distance ; when a leap, 
A stir, a motion, even a breath would bring 
My breast upon its rocky bosom's bed, 
To rest forever — wherefore do I pause 1 

3. I feel the impulse — yet I do not plunge ; 
I see the peril — yet do not recede ; 

My brain reels — and yet my foot is firm : 
There is a power upon me which withholds 
And makes it my fatality to live ; 
If it be life to wear within myself 
This barrenness of spirit, and to be 
My own soul's sepulchre, for I have ceased 
To justify my deeds unto myself — 
The last infirmity of evil. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 119 

4. Ay, 

Thou winged and cloud-cleaving minister, 

[An eagle passes. 
Whose happy flight is highest into heaven, 
Well mayest thou swoop so near me — I should be 
Thy prey, and gorge thine eaglets ; thou art gone 
Where the eye cannot follow thee ; but thine 
Yet pierces downward, onward, or above, 
With a pervading vision. 

5. Beautiful ! 
How beautiful is all this visible world ! 
How glorious in its action and itself! 

But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we, 

Half dust, half deity, alike unfit 

To sink or soar, with our mixed essence make 

A conflict of its elements, and breathe 

The breath of degradation and of pride, 

Contending with low wants and lofty will 

Till our mortality predominates, 

And men are — what they name not to themselves, 

And trust not to each other. 

6. Hark ! the note. 

[The shepherd's pipe in the distance is heard. 
The natural music of the mountain reed — 
For here the patriarchal days are not 
A pastoral fable — pipes in the liberal air, 
Mixed with the sweet bells of the sauntering herd; 
My soul would drink those echoes — Oh, that I were 
The viewless spirit of a lovely sound, 
A living voice, a breathing harmony, 
A bodiless enjoyment — born and dying 
With the blest tone which made me ! 



120 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XXXIV. 

THE BUNKER HILL MONUMENT. 



1. The society whose organ I am, was formed for the pur- 
pose of rearing some honorable and durable monument to the 
memory of the early friends of American independence. They 
have thought, that for this object no time could be more 
propitious than the present prosperous and peaceful period ; 
that no place could claim preference over this memorable 
spot ; and that no day could be more auspicious to the un- 
dertaking, than the anniversary of the battle which was here 
fought. 

2. The foundation of that monument we have now laid. 
With solemnities suited to the occasion, with prayers to Al- 
mighty God for his blessing, and in the midst of this cloud of 
witnesses, we have begun the work. We trust it will be pros- 
ecuted, and that, springing from a broad foundation, rising high 
in massive solidity and unadorned grandeur, it may remain as 
long as Heaven permits the works of man to last, a fit em- 
blem, both of the events in memory of which it is raised, and 
of the gratitude of those who have reared it. 

3. We know, indeed that the record of illustrious actions is 
most safely deposited in the universal remembrance of man- 
kind. We know, that if we could cause this structure to as- 
cend, not only till it reached the skies, but till it pierced them, 
its broad surfaces could still contain but part of that which, in 
an age of knowledge, hath already been spread over the earth, 
and which history charges itself with making known to all fu- 
ture times. We know that no inscription on entablatures less 
broad than the earth itself, can carry information of the events 
we commemorate where it has not already gone ; and that no 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 121 

structure, which shall not outlive the duration of letters and 
knowledge among men, can prolong the memorial. 

4. But our object is, by this edifice to show our own deep 
sense of the value and importance of the achievements of our 
ancestors ; and, by presenting this work of gratitude to the eye, 
to keep alive similar sentiments, and to foster a constant re- 
gard for the principles of the revolution. Human beings are 
composed, not of reason only, but of imagination also, and sen- 
timent; and that is neither wasted nor misapplied which is 
appropriated to the purpose of giving right direction to senti- 
ments, and opening proper springs of feeling in the heart. 

5. Let it not be supposed that our object is to perpetuate 
national hostility, or even to cherish a mere military spirit. It 
is higher, purer, nobler. We consecrate our work to the spirit 
of national independence, and we wish that the light of peace 
may rest upon it forever. We rear a memorial of our con- 
viction of that unmeasured benefit which has been conferred 
on our own land, and of the happy influences which have 
been produced, by the same events, on the general interests 
of mankind. 

6. We come, as Americans, to mark a spot winch must for- 
ever be dear to us and our posterity. We wish that whoso- 
ever, in all coming time, shall turn his eye hither, may behold 
that the place is not undistinguished where the first great bat- 
tle of the revolution was fought. We wish that this structure 
may proclaim the magnitude and importance of that event to 
every class and every age. We wish that infancy may learn 
the purpose of its erection from maternal lips, and that weary 
and withered age may behold it, and be solaced by the recol- 
lections which it suggests. We wish that labor may look up 
here, and be proud, in the midst of its toil. 

7. We wish that, in those days of disaster, which, as they 
come upon all nations, must be expected to come upon us also, 
desponding patriotism may turn its eyes hitherward, and be 



122 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

assured that the foundations of our national power still stand 
strong. We wish that this column, rising toward heaven - 
among the pointed spires of so many temples dedicated to God, 
may contribute also to produce, in all minds, a pious feeling 
of dependence and gratitude. 

8. We wish, finally, that the last object on the sight of him 
who leaves his native shore, and the first to gladden his' who 
revisits it, may be something which shall remind him of the 
liberty and the glory of his country. Let it rise, till it meet 
the sun in his coming ; let the earliest light of the morning gild 
it, and parting day linger and play on its summit. 



LESSON XXXV. 

qE VOICES AT THE THRONE. 
ANONYMOUS. 

1. A little child, 

A little meek-faced, quiet, village child, 

Sat singing by her cottage door at eve, 

A low, sweet, Sabbath song. No human ear 

Caught the faint melody — no human eye 

Beheld the upturned aspect, or the smile 

That wreathed her innocent lips the while they breathed 

The oft repeated burden of the hymn, 

Praise God ! praise God ! 

2. A seraph by the throne, 
In full glory stood. With eager hand, 

He smote the golden harp-string, till a flood 

Of harmony on the celestial air 

Welled forth, unceasing. There with a great voice, 

He sang the " Holy, holy evermore, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 123 

Lord God Almighty ! " and the eternal courts 
Thrilled with the rapture, and the hierarchies, 
Angel, and rapt archangel, throbbed and burned 
With vehement adoration. 

3. Higher yet 

Rose the majestic anthem, without pause, 
Higher, with rich magnificence of sound, 
To its full strength ; and still the infinite heavens 
Rang with the " Holy, holy, evermore ! " 
Till trembling with excessive awe and love, 
Each sceptered spirit sank before the throne, 
With a mute hallelujah. 

4. But even then, 
While the ecstatic song was at its height, 
Stole in an alien voice — a voice that seemed 
To float, float upward from some world afar — 

A meek and childlike voice, feint, but how sweet - 
That blended with the spirits' rushing strain, 
Even as a fountain's music, with the roll 
Of the reverberate thunder. 

5. Loving smiles 
Lit up the beauty of each angel's face 

At that new utterance, smiles of joy that grew 
More joyous yet, as ever and anon 
Was heard the simple burden of the hymn, 
" Praise God ! praise God ! " 

6. And when the seTaph's song 

J. o 

Had reached its close, and o'er the golden lyre 
Silence hung brooding — when the eternal courts 
Rang with the echoes of his chant sublime, 
Still through the abysmal, that wandering voice 
Came floating upward from its world afar, 
Still murmured sweet on the celestial air, 
" Praise God ! praise G 



124 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XXXVI. 

BURR AND BLENNERH ASSET. 



1. Who is Blennerhasset ? A native of Ireland, a man of 
letters, who fled from the storms of his own country to find 
quiet in ours. Possessed himself of a beautiful island in the 
Ohio, he rears upon it a palace, and decorates it with every ro- 
mantic embellishment of fancy. A shrubbery, that Shenstone 
might have envied, blooms around him ; music, which might 
have charmed Calypso and her nymphs, is his ; an extensive 
library spreads its treasures before him ; a philosophical ap- 
paratus offers to him all the secrets and mysteries of nature ; 
peace, tranquilty, and innocence, shed their mingled delights 
around him ; and to crown the enchantment of the scene, a 
wife, who is said to be lovely even beyond her sex, and graced 
with every accomplishment that can render it irresistible, had 
blessed him with her love, and made him the father of her 
children. The evidence would convince you, sir, that this is 
only a faint picture of the real life. 

2. In the midst of all this peace, this innocence, and this 
tranquillity, this feast of the mind, this pure banquet of the 
heart — the destroyer comes ; he comes to turn this paradise 
into a hell. A stranger presents himself. It is Aaron Burr ? 
Introduced to their civilities by the high rank which he had 
lately held in his country, he soon finds his way to their hearts 
by the dignity and elegance of his demeanor, the light and 
beauty of his conversation, and the seductive and fascinating 
power of his address. 

3. The conquest was not a difficult one. Innocence is ever 
simple and credulous ; conscious of no designs of itself, it sus- 
pects none in others ; it wears no guards before its breast ; ev- 
ery door, and portal, and avenue of the heart is thrown open, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 125 

and all who choose it enter. Such was the state of Eden, when 
the serpent entered its bowers. The prisoner in a more enga- 
ging form, winding himself into the open and unpractised heart 
of the unfortunate Blennerhasset, found but little difficulty in 
changing the native character of that heart and the objects of 
its affection. 

4. By degrees he infuses into it the poison of his own ambi- 
tion ; he breathes into it the fire of his own courage ; a daring 
and desperate thirst for glory ; an ardor panting for all the 
storms, and bustle, and hurricane of life. In a short time the 
whole man is changed, and every object of his former delights 
relinquished. No more he enjoys the tranquil scene ; it has 
become flat and insipid to his taste ; his books are abandoned; 
his retort and crucible are thrown aside ; his shrubbery blooms 
and breathes its fragrance upon the air in vain ; he likes it not ; 
his ear no longer drinks the rich melody of music ; it longs for 
the trumpet's clangor and the cannon's roar : even the prattle 
of his babes, once so sweet, no longer affects him ; and the an- 
gel smile of his wife, which hitherto touched his bosom with 
ecstacy so unspeakable, is now unseen and unfelt. 

5. Greater objects have taken possession of his soul — his 
imagination has been dazzled by visions of diadems, and stars, 
and garters, and titles of nobility ; he has been taught to burn 
with restless emulation at the names of Cromwell, Cesar, and 
Bonaparte. His enchanted island is destined soon to relapse 
into a desert ; and in a few months we find the tender and beau- 
tiful partner of his bosom, whom he lately " permitted not the 
winds of summer to visit too roughly," — we find her shiver- 
ing, at midnight, on the winter banks of the Ohio, and mingling 
her tears with the torrents that froze as they fell. 

6. Yet this unfortuuate man, thus deluded from his interest 
and his happiness — thus seduced from the paths of innocence 
and peace — thus confounded in the toils which were deliber- 
ately spread for him, and overwhelmed by the mastering spirit 



126 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

and genius of another ; — this man, thus ruined and undone, 
and made to play a subordinate part in this grand drama of 
guilt and treason, this man is to be called the principal offender ; 
while he, by whom he was thus plunged and steeped in mis- 
ery, is comparatively innocent — a mere accessory. Sir, neither 
the human heart, nor the human understanding, will bear a per- 
version so monstrous and absurd ; so shocking to the soul ; so 
revolting to reason. 



LESSON XXXVII. 

THE BATTLE STORM. 



1. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, 
Or close the wall up with our English dead. 

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man 

As modest stillness and humility ; 

But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 

Then imitate the action of the tiger : 

Stiffen the sinews — summon up the blood, — 

Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage ; 

Then lend the eye a terrible aspect ; 

Let it pry through the portage of the head, 

Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it, 

As fearfully as doth the galled rock 

O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, 

Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean 

2. Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide, 
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
To its full height ! — On, on, you noble English, 
Whose blood is set from fathers of war-proof! 
Fathers, that like so many Alexanders, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 127 

Have in these parts from morn till even fought, 

And sheathed their swords for lack of argument : 

Be copy now for men of grosser blood, 

And teach them how to war ; and you, good yeomen, 

Whose limbs are made in England, show us here 

The mettle of your pasture : let us swear 

That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not : 

For there is none of you so mean and base 

That hath not noble lustre in your eye: 

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 

Straining upon the start. The game's a-foot ; 

[Follow your spirit ; and upon this charge, 

Cry, heaven for Harry, England, and Sc, George ! 



LESSON XXXVIH. 

SATAN TO HIS LEGIONS, 

MILTON. 

Princes, potentates, 
Warriors, the flower of heav'n, once yours, now lost. 
If such astonishment as this can seize 
Eternal spirits : or have ye chosen this place 
After the toil of battle, to repose 
Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find 
To slumber here, as in the vales of heav'n? 
Or, in this abject posture, have ye sworn 
To adore the Conq'ror ! who now beholds 
Cherub, and seraph, rolling in the flood 
With scatter'd arms, and ensigns ; till anon 
His swift pursuers, from heav'n-gates discern 
The advantage, and descending, tread us down, 



128 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Thus drooping ; or, with linked thunderbolts, 
Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf. 
Awake ! arise ! or be forever fallen ! 



LESSON XXXIX. 

THE CRIMINALITY OF DUELLING. 



1. Hamilton yielded to the force of an imperious custom. 
And yielding, he sacrificed a life in which all had an interest — 
and he is lost — lost to his country — lost to his family — lost 
to us. For this act, because he disclaimed it, and was peni- 
tent, I forgive him. But there are those whom I cannot for- 
give. I mean not his antagonist — over whose erring steps, 
if there be tears in heaven, a pious mother looks down and 
weeps. If he be capable of feeling, he suffers already all that 
humanity can ' suffer. Suffers, and wherever he may fly will 
suffer, with the poignant recollection of taking the life of one 
who was too magnanimous in return to attempt his own. 

2. Had he known this, it must have paralyzed his arm while 
he pointed, at so incorruptible a bosom, the instrument of death. 
Does he know this now, his heart, if it be not adamant, must 
soften — if it be not ice, it must melt. But on this article I 
forbear. Stained with blood as he is, if he be penitent, I for- 
give him — and if he be not, before these altars, where all of 
us appear as suppliants, I wish not to excite your vengeance, 
but rather, in behalf of an object rendered wretched and pitia- 
ble by crime, to wake your prayers. 

3. I enjoy another opportunity ; and would to God I might 
be permitted to approach for once the last scene of death. 
Would to God, I could there assemble on the one side the dis- 
consolate mother with her seven fatherless children — and on 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 129 

the other those who administer the justice of my country. 
Could I do this, I would point them to these sad objects. I 
would entreat them by the agonies of bereaved fondness, to lis- 
ten to the widow's heartfelt groans ; to mark the orphan's 
sighs and tears — and having done this, I would uncover the 
breathless corpse of Hamilton — I would lift from his gaping 
wound his bloody mantle — I would hold it up to heaven be- 
fore them, and I would ask, in the name of God, I would ask, 
whether at the sight of it they felt no compunction. Ye who 
who have hearts of pity — ye who- have experienced the an- 
guish of dissolving friendship — who have wept, and still weep 
over the mouldering ruins of departed kindred, ye can enter 
into this reflection. 

4. O thou disconsolate widow ! robbed, so cruelly robbed, 
and in so short a time, both of a husband and a son ! what 
must be the plenitude of thy sufferings ! Could we approach thee, 
gladly would we drop the tear of sympathy, and pour into thy 
bleeding bosom the balm of consolation. But how could we 
comfort her whom God hath not comforted ! To his throne, 
let us lift up our voice and weep. O God ! if thou art still the 
widow's husband, and the father of the fatherless — if, in the 
fullness of thy goodness, there be yet mercies in store for mis- 
erable mortals, pity, O pity this afflicted mother, and grant that 
her hapless orphans may find a friend, a benefactor, a father in 
Thee! 



LESSON XL. 

THANATOPSIS. 



To him, who, in the love of nature holds 
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 
A various language ; for his gayer hours, 
F* 9 



130 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

She has a voice of gladness, and a smile, 
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides 
Into his dark musings with a mild, 
And gentle sympathy, that steals away 
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. 

2. When thoughts 

Of the last bitter hour, comes like a blight 

Over thy spirit, and sad images 

Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, 

And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, 

Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart ; 

Go forth into the open sky, and list 

To nature's teaching, while, from all around, 

Comes a still voice : 

3. " Yet a few days, and thee, 
The all-beholding sun shall see no more, 

In all his course ; nor yet in the cold ground, 

Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, 

Nor in the embrace of ocean shall exist 

Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim 

Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again ; 

And, lost each human trace, surrendering up 

Thine individual being, shalt thou go, 

To mix forever with the elements, 

To be a brother to th' insensible rock, 

And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain 

Turns with his share, and treads upon. 

4. " The oak 

Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mold. 
Yet not, to thy eternal resting place, 
Shalt thou retire, alone — nor could'st thou wish 
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down 
With patriarchs of the infant world, with kings, 



NV 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 131 

The powerful of the earth, the wise, the good, 
Pair forms, and hoary seers of ages past 
All in one mighty sepulchre. 

5. "The hills, 
Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun ; the vales, 
Stretching in pensive quietness between ; 

The venerable woods ; rivers that move 

In majesty, and the complaining brooks 

That make the meadow green ; and, poured round all, 

Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, 

Are but the solemn decorations all 

Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, 

The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, 

Are shining on the sad abodes of death, 

Through the still lapse of ages. 

6. " All that tread 
The globe, are but a handful, to the tribes 
That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings 
Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, 
Or, lose thyself in the continuous woods, 
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, 
Save its own dashings — yet the dead are there ; 
And millions in those solitudes, since first 

The flight of years began, have laid them down 
In their last sleep : the dead reign there alone. 

7. " So shalt thou rest ; and what, if thou shalt fall, 
Unnoticed by the living ; and no friend 

Take note of thy departure 1 All that breathe 
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh, 
When thou art gone ; the solemn brood of care 
Plod on ; and each one, as before, will chase 
His favorite phantom ; yet, all these shall leave 



132 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Their mirth, and their enjoyments, and shall come, 
And make their bed with thee. As the long train 
Of ages glide away, the sons of men, 
The youth, in life's green spring, and he, who goes 
In the full strength of years, matron, and maid, 
The bowed with age, the infant, in the smiles 
And beauty of its innocent age cut off — 
Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side, 
By those who, in their turn, shall follow them. 

8. " So live, that when thy summons comes, to join 
The innumerable caravan that moves 
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take 
His chamber, in the silent halls of death, 
Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night, 
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams ! " 



LESSON XLI. 

FAREWELL TO HUNGARY. 



1. Thou art fallen, truest of nations ! Thou art thrust down 
under thine own blow ! not the weapon of a foreign enemy, 
which has dug thy grave ; not the cannon of the many nations, 
brought up against thee — they have tottered back at thy love 
to thy Fatherland ! not the Muscovites, who crawled over the 
Karpathites, have compelled thee to lay down thine arms. 
no ! sold, thou wast, dear Fatherland. Thy sentence of death, 
beloved Fatherland, was written by him, whose love to his 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 133 

country I never questioned for a single moment. In the bold 
flight of my thoughts, I would rather have doubted the exist- 
ence of a good man, than I should have thought he could have 
become the traitor to his Fatherland. 

2. And thou hast been betrayed by him, in whose hands a 
few days ago I laid the government of our country, sworn to 
defend thee with the last drop of his blood. He became a 
traitor to his country because the color of gold was dearer to 
him than that of blood, which was shed for the independence 
of the Fatherland. The profane metal had in his eyes more 
value than the Holy God of his land, who forsook him, when 
he entered into a covenant with the associates of the devil ! 

3. Magyars ! my dear fellow-sons of the same country ! Do 
not accuse me, because I was compelled to cast my eye on this 
man, and to vacate my place for him. I was compelled to do 
so, because the people confided in him, because the army loved 
him, and he had already attained to a position, in which he 
could have proved his fidelity ! and yet the man abused the 
confidence of the nation, and in return for the love of his na- 
tion, treated them with contempt. Curse him, people of the 
Magyars ! curse the heart which did not dry up when it at- 
tempted to nourish him with the moisture of life ! 

4. I love thee, Europe's truest nation ! as I love the freedom 
for which thou fought so bravely ! The God of liberty will 
never blot you out from His memory. Be blessed forever 
more ! My principles were those of Washington, though my 
deeds were not those of William Tell ! I wished for a free nation 
— free as God only can create man — and thou art dead, because 
thy winter has arrived ; but this will not last so long as thy 
fellow-sufferer, languishing under the icy sky of Siberia. No, 
fifteen nations have dug thy grave, the thousands of the six- 
teenth will arrive to save thee! 

5. Be faithful as hitherto, keep to the holy sentences of the 
Bible, pray for thy liberation, and then chant thy national hymns 



134 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

when thy mountains reecho the thunder of the cannons of thy 
liberators ! God be with you, dear comrades and fellow-suf- 
ferers ! The angels of God and of liberty be with you. You 
may still be proud, for the lion of Europe had to be aroused 
to conquer the rebels ! The whole civilized world has admired 
you as heroes, and the cause of the heroic nations will be sup- 
ported by the freest of the free nations on earth ! 

6. God be with thee, sacred soil ! drenched with the blood 
of so many of thy noble sons ! Preserve these sacred spots, 
that they may give evidence before the world for you, before 
the people, that will come to your succor! God be with thee, 
young King of the Magyars, forget not that thy nation has not 
elected thee ! There lives in me still the hope that a day will 
come, on which you will see the confirmation of the word — 
if it even be on the ruins of Buda ! The blessing of the Al- 
mighty, my dear nation, rest upon thee. Believe — Love — 
and Hone ! 



LESSON XLU. 

PULPIT ELOQUENCE. 



MBS. WELEY. 



1. The day was declining — the breeze in its glee 
Had left the fair blossoms to sing on the sea, 
As the sun in its gorgeousness, radiant and still, 
Dropped down like a gem from the brow of the hill, 
One tremulous star in the glory of June 

Came out with a smile and sat down by the moon, 

As she graced her blue throne with the pride of a queen 

The smiles of her loveliness gladdened the scene. 

2. The scene was enchanting! in distance away 

Kolled the foam-crested waves of the Chesapeake Bay, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 135 

While bathing in moonlight the village was seen 
With the church in the distance that stood on the green, 
The soft, sleeping meadows lay brightly unrolled, 
With their mantles of verdure and blossoms of gold, 
And the earth in her beauty, forgetting to grieve, 
Lay asleep in her bloom on the bosom of eve. 

3. A light-hearted child, I had wandered away 

From the spot where my footsteps had gamboled all day ; 

And free as a bird's, was the song of my soul, 

As I heard the wild waters exultingly roll ; 

While lightening my heart as I sported along, 

With bursts of low laughter and snatches of song, 

I struck in the pathway half-worn o'er the sod 

By the feet that went up to the worship of God. 

4. As I traced its green windings, a murmur of prayer 
With the hymn of the worshipers rose on the air, 
And drawn by the links of its sweetness along, 

I stood unobserved in the midst of the throng. 
For awhile my young spirit still wandered about 
With the birds, and the winds, that were singing without ; 
But, birds, waves, and zephyrs, were quickly forgot 
In one angel-like being that brightened the spot. 

5. In stature majestic, apart from the throng 

He stood in his beauty, the theme of my song ! 

His cheek pale with fervor, — the blue orbs above 

Lit up with the splendors of youth and of love, 

Yet the heart-glowing rapture that beamed from those eyes, 

Seemed saddened by sorrow and chastened by sighs, 

As if the young heart in its bloom had grown cold, 

With its loves unrequited, its sorrows untold. 

6. Such language as his may I never recall, 

But his theme was salvation — salvation to all ! 






136 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

And the souls of a thousand in ecstacy hung 

On the manna-like sweetness that dropped from his tongue. 

Not alone on the ear his wild eloquence stole, 

Enforced by each gesture, it sunk to the soul, 

Till it seemed that an angel had brightened the sod, 

And brought to each bosom a message from God. 

7. He spoke of the Savior — what pictures he drew ! 
The scenes of His sufferings rose clear on my view — 
The cross — the rude cross where He suffered and died ; 
The gush of bright crimson that flowed from His side ; 
The cup of His sorrows — the wormwood and gall ; 
The darkness that mantled the earth as a pall ; 

The garland of thorns — and the demon-like crews 

Who knelt as they scoffed Him, " Hail King of the Jews ! n 

8. He spoke, and it seemed that his statue-like form 
Expanded and glowed as his spirit grew warm ; 
His tone so impassioned — so melting his air, 
As touched with compassion, he ended in prayer ; 
His hands clasped above him, his blue orbs upthrown, 
Still pleading for sins that were never his own, 

While that mouth where such sweetness ineffable clung, 
Still spoke, though expression had died on his tongue ! 

9. O God ! what emotions the speaker awoke 
A mortal he seemed — yet a deity spoke ; 
A man — yet so far from humanity riven ; 

On earth — yet so closely connected with heaven ; 
How oft in my fancy I've pictured him there, 
As he stood in that triumph of passion and prayer, 
With his eyes closed in rapture — their transient eclipse 
Made bright by the smiles that illumined his lips. 

10. There's a charm in delivery, a magical art, 

That thrills like a kiss from the lip to the heart ; 






RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. Ie37 

'Tis the glance, the expression, the well chosen word, 
' By whose magic the depths of the spirit are stirred ; 
The smile, the mute gesture, the soul-startling pause, 
The eye's sweet expresssion, that melts while it awes — - 
The lip's soft persuasion, its musical tone, — 
Oh such was the charm of that eloquent one ! 

11. The time is long past, — yet how clearly denned 
That bay, church, and village, float on my mind ; 
I see amid azure the moon in her pride, 

"With the sweet little trembler that sat by her side ; 
I hear the blue waves, as she wanders along, 
Leap up in their gladness and sing her a song, 
And I tread in the pathway half-worn o'er the sod, 
By the feet that went up to the worship of God. 

12. The time is long past, yet what visions I see! 
The past, the dim past, is the present to me. 

I am standing once more 'mid the heart-stricken throng ! 

A vision floats up — 'tis the theme of my song — 

All glorious and bright as a spirit of air, 

The light like a halo encircling his hair, 

As I catch the same accents of sweetness and love, 

He whispers of Jesus, and points us above. 

13. How sweet to my heart is the picture I've traced ! 
Its chain of bright fancies seemed almost effaced, 
Till Memory, the fond one, that sits in the soul, 
Took up the frail links, and collected the whole. 
As the dew to the blossom, the bud to the bee, 

As the scent to the rose, are those memories to me ; 
Round the chords of my heart they have tremblingly clung, 
And the echo it gives, is the song I have sung. 



138 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XL1II. 

TRAGIC FATE OF ELIZA. 



1. Now stood Eliza on the wood-crowned height, 
O'er Min den's plain, spectatress of the fight ; 
Sought with bold eye, amid the bloody strife, 
Her dearer self, the partner of her life ; 
From hill to hill the rushing host pursued, 
And viewed his banner, or believed she viewed. 
Pleased with the distant roar, with quicker tread, 
East by his hand one lisping boy she led ; 

And one fair girl, amid the loud alarm, 
Slept on her kerchief, cradled by her arm ; 
While round her brows bright beams of honor dart, 
And love's warm eddies circle round her heart. 
Near and more near the intrepid beauty pressed, — 
Saw through the driving smoke his dancing crest, 
Heard the exulting shout, " They run ! they run ! * 
"Great God ! " she cried, " he's safe ! the battle's won ! " 

2. A ball now hisses through the airy tides, 
(Some fury wings it, and some demon guides,) 
Parts the fine locks, her graceful head that deck, 
Wounds her fair ear and sinks into her neck ; 
The red stream issuing from her azure veins, 
Dyes her white vail, her ivory bosom stains. 

" Ah me ! " she cried, and sinking on the ground, 
Kissed her dear babes regardless of the wound. 

3. " Oh, cease not yet to beat, thou vital urn ! 
Wait, gushing life, oh, wait my love's return ! 
Hoarse barks the wolf, the vulture screams from far ! 
The angel, pity, shuns the walks of war ! 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 13D 

Oh, spare ye war-hounds, spare their tender age, 
On me, on me," she cried, " exhaust your rage ! " 
Then with weak arms her weeping babes caressed, 
And sighing, hid them in her blood-stained vest. 

From tent to tent the impatient warrior flies, 

Fear in his heart, and frenzy in his eyes ; 

Eliza's name along the camp he calls, 

Eliza ! echoes through the canvas walls ; 

Quick through the murmuring gloom his footsteps tread 

O'er groaning heaps, the dying and the dead, 

Vault o'er the plain, and in the tangled wood, 

Lo ! dear Eliza, weltering in her blood ! 

Soon hears his listening son the welcome sounds, 
With open arms and sparkling eyes he bounds : 
" Speak low," he cries, and gives his little hand, 
" Eliza sleeps upon the dew-cold sand ; 
Alas ! we both with cold and hunger quake — 
Why do you weep ? — Mamma will soon awake." 
" She'll wake no more ! " the hopeless mourner cried, 
Upturned his eyes, and clasped his hands and sighed ; 
Stretched on the ground awhile entranced he lay, 
And pressed warm kisses on the lifeless clay ; 
And then upsprung with wild convulsive start, 
And all the father kindled in his heart : 
" Oh heavens ! " he cried, " my first rash vow forgive ! 
These bind to earth, for these I pray to live ! " 
Round his chill babes he wrapped his crimson vest, 
And clasped them sobbing to his aching breast. 



140 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XLIV. 

FUNERAL ORATION DEATH OF CLAY. 

EET. DE. BUTLEE. 

1. Before all hearts and minds in this august assemblage, 
the vivid image of one man stands. To some aged eye, he 
may come forth, from the dim past, as he appeared in the 
neighboring city of his native state, a lithe and ardent youth, 
full of promise, of ambition, and of hope. To another, he may 
appear as, in a distant state, in the courts of justice, erect, high- 
strung, bold, wearing fresh forensic laurels on his young and 
open brow. 

2. Some may see him in the earlier and some in the later 
stages of his career on this auspicious theater of his renown ; 
and to the former he will start out, on the background of the 
past, as he appeared in the neighboring chamber, tall, elate, im- 
passioned, with flashing eye, and suasive gesture, and clarion 
voice, an already acknowledged " Agamemnon, King of Men;" 
and to others, he will again stand in this chamber " the strong 
staff " of the bewildered and staggering state, and " the beauti- 
ful rod," rich with the blossoms of genius, and of patriotic love 
and hope, the life of youth still remaining to give animation, 
grace, and exhaustless vigor, to the wisdom, the experience, and 
gravity of age. 

3. To others he may be present as he sat in the chamber of 
sickness, cheerful, majestic, gentle — his mind clear, his heart 
warm, his hope fixed on heaven, peacefully preparing for his 
last great change. To the memory of the minister of God, he 
appears as the penitent, humble, and peaceful christian, who re- 
ceived him with the affection of a father, and joined with him 
in solemn sacrament and prayer with the gentleness of a wo- 
man and humility of a child. " Out of the strong came forth 
sweetness." " How is the strong staff broken and the beauti- 
ful rod ! " 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 141 

4. But not before this assembly only does the venerable im- 
age of the departed statesman this day distinctly stand. For 
more than a thousand miles — east, west, north, and south — it 
is known and remembered, that at this place and hour a na- 
tion's representatives assemble to do honor to him whose fame 
is now a nation's heritage. A nation's mighty heart throbs 
against this capitol, and beats through you. In many cities, 
banners droop, bells toll, cannons boom, funeral draperies 
wave. 

5. In crowded streets and on surrounding wharves, upon 
steamboats, and upon cars, in fields, in workshops, in homes, 
in schools, millions of men, women, and children, have their 
thoughts fixed upon this scene, and say mournfully to each 
other, " This is the hour in which, at the capital, the nation's 
representatives are burying Henry Clay." Burying Henry 
Clay 1 Bury the record of your country's history — bury the 
hearts of living millions — bury the mountains, the rivers, the 
lakes, and the spreading lands from sea to sea, with which his 
name is inseparably associated, and even then you would not 
bury Henry Clay — for he is in other lands and speaks in other 
tongues, and to other times, than ours. 

6. A great mind, a great heart, a great orator, a great ca- 
reer, have been consigned to history. She will record his rare 
gifts of deep insight, keen discrimination, clear statement, rapid 
combination, plain, direct, and convincing logic. She will love 
to dwell on that large, generous, magnanimous, open, forgiving 
heart. She will linger with fond delight on the recorded or 
traditional stories of an eloquence that was so masterful and 
stirring, because it was but himself struggling to come forth 
on the living words — because, though the words were brave 
and strong, and beautiful, and melodious, it was felt that, be- 
hind them, there was a soul, braver, stronger, more beautiful,* 
and more melodious than language could express. 

7. She will point to a career of statesmanship which has, to 



142 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

a remarkable degree, stamped itself on the public policy of the 
country, and reached in benificent practical results the fields, 
the looms, the commercial marts, and the quiet homes of all 
the land, where his name was with the departed father, and is 
with the living children, and will be with successive genera- 
tions, the honored household word. 



LESSON XLV. 

THE GRAVE TWO VOICES. 



First Voice. 

1. How frightful the grave! how deserted and drear! 
With the howls of the storm-wind — the creaks of the biet, 

And the white bones all clattering tagether ! 
Second Voice. 

2. How peaceful the grave ! its quiet how deep ! 
Its zephyrs breathe calmly, and soft is its sleep, 

And flowrets perfume it with ether. 
First Voice. 

3. There riots the blood-crested worm on the dead, 
And the yellow skull serves the foul toad for a bed, 

And snakes in its nettle-weeds hiss. 

Second Voice. 

4. How lovely, how sweet the repose of the tomb ; 
No tempests are there — but the nightingales come 

And sing their sweet chorus of bliss. 

First Voice. 

5. The ravens of night flap their wings o'er the grave : 
'Tis the vulture's abode — 'tis the wolf's dreary cave, 

Where they tear up the earth with their fangs. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 143 

Second Voice. 

6. There the rabbit at evening disports with his love, 
Or rests on the sod — while the turtles above, 

Eepose on the bough that o'erhangs. 

First Voice. 

7. There darkness and dampness with poisonous breath 
And loathsome decay, fill the dwelling of death, 

And trees are all barren and bare ! 
Second Voice. 

8. Oh, soft are the breezes that play round the tomb, 
And sweet with the violet's wafted perfume, 

With lilies and jessamine fair. 

First Voice. 

9. The pilgrim who reaches this valley of tears, 
Would fain hurry by, and with trembling and fears, 

He is launched on the wreck-covered river ! 
Second Voice. 
10. The traveler, outworn with life's pilgrimage dreary, 
Lays down his rude staff, like one that is weary, 
And sweetly reposes forever ! 



LESSON XLVf. 

A VOICE FOR WAR. 
ADDISON. 

1. My voice is still for war. 

Gods ! can a Roman senate long debate 
Which of the two to choose, slavery or death ? 
No, let us rise at once, gird on our swords, 
And at the head of our remaining troops, 
Attack the foe, break through the thick array 



144 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Of his throng'd legions, and charge home upon him : 

Perhaps some arm, more lucky than the rest, 

May reach his heart, and free the world from bondage. 

Rise, fathers, rise ! 'Tis Rome demands your help ; 

Rise, and revenge her slaughtered citizens, 

Or share their fate ! The corpse of half her senate 

Manure the fields of Thessaly, while we 

Sit here deliberating in cold debates, 

If we should sacrifice our lives to honor, 

Or wear them out in servitude and chains. 

Rouse up, for shame ! our brothers of Pharsalia 

Point at their wounds, and cry aloud — to battle ! 

Great Pompey's shade complains that we are slow, 

And Scipio's ghost walks unrevenged amongst us ! 



LESSON XLVII. 

THE GATHERING STORM OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. 



PATRICK HENBY. 



1. Mr. President : — It is natural for man to indulge in the 
illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a pain- 
ful truth, and listen to the song of that syren, till she trans- 
forms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in. 
a great and arduous struggle for liberty ? Are we disposed to 
be of the number of those, who, having eyes, see not, and hav- 
ing ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their tem- 
poral salvation 1 For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it 
may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth ; to know the 
worst, and to provide for it. 

2. I have but one lamp, by which my feet are guided ; and 
that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging 
of the future, but by the past. And, judging by the past, I wish 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 145 

to know what there has been, in the conduct of the British min- 
istry, for the last ten years, to justify those hopes, with which 
gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves, and the 
house 1 Is it that insidious smile, with which our petition has 
been lately received 1 

3. Trust it not, sir ; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suf- 
fer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves, 
how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those 
warlike preparations, which cover our waters, and darken our 
land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love, and 
reconciliation 1 Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be 
reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our love ? 

4. Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the imple- 
ments of war and subjugation — the last arguments to which 
kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial 
array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission 1 Can 
gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it 1 Has Great 
Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all 
this accumulation of navies and armies 1 No, sir, she has none. 
They are meant for us; they can be meant for no other. They 
are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains, which the 
British ministry have been so long forging. 

5. And what have we to oppose to them % Shall we try 
argument 1 Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten 
years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject 1 No- 
thing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it 
is capable ; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to en- 
treaty and humble supplication 1 What terms shall we find, 
which have not been already exhausted % 

6. Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. 
Sir, we have done everything that could be done, to avert the 
storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned ; we 
have remonstrated ; we have supplicated ; we have prostrated 
ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition, 

G 10 



146 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and parliament. 
Our petitions have been slighted ; our remonstrances have pro- 
duced additional violence and insult; our supplications have 
been disregarded, and we have been spurned, with contempt, 
from the foot of the throne. 

7. In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope 
of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for 
hope. If we wish to be free ; if we mean to preserve, invio- 
late, those inestimable privileges, for which we have been so 
long contending ; if we mean not basely to abandon the noble 
struggle, in which we have been so long engaged, and which 
we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious 
object of our contest shall be obtained, we must fight ! I re- 
peat it ! sir, we must fight ! An appeal to arms, and to the 
God of hosts, is all that is left us. 

8. They tell us, sir, that we are weak, unable to cope with 
so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger *? 
Will it be the next week, or the next year ? Will it be when 
we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be sta- 
tioned in every house 1 Shall we gather strength by irresolu- 
tion and inaction ? Shall we acquire the means of effectual re- 
sistance, by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the de- 
lusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us 
hand and foot? 

9. Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those 
means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. 
Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, 
and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible, 
by any force which our enemy can send against us. 

10. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There 
is a just God, who presides over the destinies of nations, and 
who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The bat- 
tle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant, the ac- 
tive, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were 






RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 147 

base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the 
contest. • There is no retreat but in submission and slavery ! 
Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the 
plains of Boston ! The war is inevitable, and let it come ! 
I repeat it, sir, let it come ! 

11. It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may 
cry, peace, peace — but there is no peace. The war is actually 
begun ! The next gale that sweeps from the north, will bring 
to our ears the clash of resounding arms ! Our brethren are 
already in the field ! Why stand we here idle % What is it 
that gentlemen wish % what would they have ? Is life so dear, 
or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and 
slavery % Forbid it, Almighty God. I know not what course 
others may take, but, as for me, give me liberty, or give me 
death!" 



LESSON XLVIII. 

THE MISSIONARY'S FAREWELL. 



6. F. SMITH. 



1. Yes, my native land, I love thee — 

All thy scenes, I love them well ; 
Friends, connections, happy country \ 

Can I bid you all farewell % 
Can I leave you, 
Far in heathen lands to dwell % 

2. Home ! thy joys are passing lovely — 

Joys no stranger-heart can tell ; 
Happy home ! indeed I love thee ! 

Can I, can I say, farewell % 
Can I leave thee, 
Far in heathen lands to dwell ? 



148 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

3. Scenes of sacred peace and pleasure, 

Holy days and Sabbath bell, 
Richest, brightest, sweetest treasure ! 

Can I say a last farewell ? 
Can I leave you, 
Far in heathen lands to dwell ? 

4. Yes, I hasten from you gladly, 

From the scenes I loved so well ; 
Far away, ye billows, bear me ; 

Lovely, native land, farewell ! 
Pleased I leave thee, 
Far in heathen lands to dwell. 

5. In the deserts let me labor, 

On the mountains let me tell 
How He died — the blessed Savior — 

To redeem a world from hell ! 
Let me hasten, 
Far in heathen lands to dwell. 

6. Bear me on, thou restless ocean, 

Let the winds the canvas swell ; 
Heaves my heart with warm emotion, 

While I go far hence to dwell ; 
Glad I bid thee, 
Native land, farewell, farewell ! 



LESSON XLIX. 

THE YOUNG MARINER. 



In slumbers of midnight, the sailor boy lay ; 

His hammock swung loose, at the sport of the wind ; 
But, watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away, 

And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 149 

2. He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bowers, 

And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn ; 
While memory stood sideways, half covered with flowers, 
And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn. 

3. Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide, 

And bade the young dreamer in ecstacy rise : 
Now far, far behind him the green waters glide, 
And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes. 

4. The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch, 

And the swallow sings sweet from her nest in the wall j 
All trembling with transport he raises the latch, 
And the voices of loved ones reply to his call. 

5. A father bends o'er him with looks of delight, 

His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear, 
And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss unite, 

With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear. 

6. The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast, 

Joy quickens his pulse — all his hardships seem o'er, 
And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest : 
" O God, thou hast blessed me, I ask for no more." 

7. Ah, what is that flame which now bursts on his eye ! 

Ah, what is that sound which now larums his ear ! 
'Tis the lightning's red glare, painting hell on the sky ! 
'Tis the crash of the thunder, the groan of the sphere ! 

8. He springs from his hammock — he flies to the deck, 

Amazement confronts him with images dire; 
Wild winds and waves drive the vessel awreck — 
The masts fly in splinters — the shrouds are on fire ! 

9. Like mountains, the billows tremendously swell ; 

In vain the lost wretch calls on Mary to save ; 
Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell, 

And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave ! 



150 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON L. 

Webster's tomb. 



1. That noble form, that glorious man, whose presence in 
the world has come to be 'almost a part of it, has gone forever 
from us, as if we had fallen upon a night from which the most 
brilliant constellation of the heavens had forever withdrawn its 
beams. He has gone ; he is dead ; he who was the foremost 
man among us, the first American of his generation, whose 
mind has so long been the guide and guardian of a great coun- 
try, now sleeps beneath the sod. 

2. While living, but thoughtful of his latter end, he selected 
and prepared his own resting-place ; and his friends and weep- 
ing neighbors have laid him in it. How fitting is that place ! 
Great in life, great in death, he is greatly fortunate in having 
found a spot so entirely in harmony with his greatness. On 
his native soil, in his own New England, which his lips had im- 
mortalized, near the home and the scenes he loved so well, and 
not far from the shore of the ever-resounding sea, they have laid 
him down to rest, where his countrymen can visit him amid 
the scenes where he used to dwell. 

3. Nowhere else in the wide world could he have found a 
more suitable place of burial. Buried within the limits of a 
city — the city might have crumbled away, as all cities must, and 
left him lost amidst the heaps of deserted rubbish. Buried near 
the capitol, where his greatness had been most conspicuous — in 
the revolving fortunes of such a country as this the capitol it- 
self might be taken down and removed, leaving his glorious 
dust in neglect and solitude. Laid upon the bank of his native 
river, where his forefathers sleep — rivers themselves, in the 
progress of civilization, have changed their courses, or have 
been dried up within their rocky bed, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 151 

4. Nowhere, nowhere could the great man have been laid to 
rest in a place so consonant to his character. There, within 
sight of his cherished home, and on the ocean shore, he lies. 
That home will guard him well; and that ocean, the best 
earthly emblem of his greatness, and image of the eternity of 
his fame, will roll along his requiem, when many a river shall 
have ceased to flow, and when cities and capitols shall have 
mingled their ashes with the dust of earth ! 



LESSON LI. 

A MOTHER'S LOVE. 

ANONTMOTTS. 

1. Hast thou sounded the depths of yonder sea, 
And counted the sands that under it be ? 

Hast thou measured the height of heaven above ? 
Then mayest thou mete out the mother's love. 

2. Hast thou talked with the blessed, of leading on 
To the throne of God some wandering son 1 
Hast thou witnessed the angels' bright employ ? 
Then mayest thou speak of a mother's joy. 

3. Evening and morn hast thou watched the bee 
Go forth, on her errands of industry ? 

The bee, for Jierself, hath gather'd and toil'd, 
But the mother's cares are all for her child. 

4. Hast thou gone with the traveler, thought, afar, 
From pole to pole, from star to star ] 

Thou hast — but, on ocean, earth, or sea, 
The heart of a mother has gone with thee. 

5. There is not a grand, inspiring thought, 
There is not a truth, by wisdom taught, 



152 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

There is not a feeling, pure and high, 
That may not be read in a mother's eye. 

6. There are teachings on earth, and sky, and air, 
The heavens the glory of God declare ; 
But louder than voice beneath, above, 
He is heard to speak through a mother's love. 



LESSON LII. 

warren's address. 



1. Stand ! the ground's your own, my braves, 
Will ye give it up to slaves 1 

"Will ye look for greener graves ? 

Hope ye mercy still % 
What's the mercy despots feel ? 
Hear it in that battle peal ! 
Eead it on yon bristling steel ! 

Ask it — ye who will. 

2. Fear ye foes who kill for hire 1 
Will ye to your homes retire % 
Look behind you ! they're a-fire ! 

And before you, see 
Who have done it ! From the -vale 
On they come ! — and will ye quail ?— 
Leaden rain and iron hail 

Let their welcome be ! 

3. In the God of battles trust ! 
Die we may — and die we must ; 
But, O, where can dust to dust 

Be consigned so well, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 153 

As where heaven its dews shall shed, 
On the martyr'd patriot's bed, 
And the rocks shall raise their head, 
Of his deeds to tell ! 



LESSON Lin. 

LIBERTY AND UNION. 



1. I profess, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept 
steadily in view the prosperity and honor of the whole coun- 
try, and the preservation of our federal Union. It is to that 
Union we owe our safety at home, and our consideration and 
dignity abroad. It is to that Union that we are chiefly indebted 
for whatever makes us most proud of our country. 

2. That Union we reached only by the discipline of our vir- 
tues in the severe school of adversity. It had its origin in the ne- 
cessities of disordered finance, prostrate commerce and ruined 
credit. Under its benign influences, these great interests imme- 
diately awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth with newness 
of life. Every year of its duration has teemed with fresh proofs 
of its utility and its blessings ; and although our territory has 
stretched out wider and wider, and our population spread farther 
and farther, they have not outrun its protection or its benefits. 
It has been to us all a copious fountain of national, social and 
personal happiness. 

| 3. I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the Union, 
to see what might lie hidden in the dark recess behind. I have 
not coolly weighed the chances of preserving liberty when the 
bonds that unite us together shall be broken asunder. I have 
not accustomed myself to hang over the precipice of disunion, 
G* 



154 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

to see whether, with my short sight, I can fathom the depth of 
the abyss below ; nor could I regard him as a safe counselor 
in the affairs of this government, whose thoughts should be 
mainly bent on considering, not how the Union should be best 
preserved, but how tolerable might be the condition of the 
people when it shall be broken up and destroyed. 

4. While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, gratifying 
prospects spread out before us, for us and our children. Beyond 
that, I seek not to penetrate the vail. God grant, that in my 
day, at least, that curtain may not rise ! God grant that on 
my vision never may be opened what lies behind ! When my 
eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun in heaven, 
may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored frag- 
ments of a once glorious Union ; on states dissevered, discord- 
ant, belligerent ; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, 
it may be, in fraternal blood ! 

5. Let their last feeble and lingering glance rather be- 
hold the gorgeous ensign of the republic, now known and 
honored throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms 
and trophies streaming in their original luster, not a stripe 
erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured, bearing for its 
motto, no such miserable interrogatory as "What is all this 
worth 1 ?" nor those other words of delusion and folly, "Liberty 
first and Union afterwards;" but everywhere, spread all over 
in characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds, as 
they float over the sea and over the land, and in every wind 
under the whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every 
true American heart — Liberty and Union, now and forever, 
one and inseparable ! 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. ] 55 

LESSON LIV. 

RESIGNATION. 



The following sublime and affecting production was but lately discovered among 
the remains of the great epic poet, and is published in the recent Oxford edition of 
Milton's Works: 

1. I am old and blind! 

Men point at me as smitten by God's frown ; 
Afflicted and deserted of my kind ; 
Yet I am not cast down. 

2. I am weak, yet strong ; 

I murmur not that I no longer see ; 
Poor, old, and helpless, I the more belong, 
Father supreme ! to Thee. 

3. O, merciful one ! 

When men are farthest then thou art most near ; 
When friends pass by me, and my weakness shun, 
Thy chariot I hear. 

4. Thy glorious face 

Is leaning toward me ; and its holy light 
Shines in upon my lonely dwelling p]ace — 
And there is no more night. 

5. On my bended knee 

I recognize thy purpose clearly shown ; 
My vision thou hast diinm'd, that I may see 
Thyself — Thyself alone. 

6. I have nought to fear ; 

This darkness is the shadow of thy wing ; 
Beneath it I am almost sacred ; here 
Can come no evil thing. 



156 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

?'. O ! I seem to stand 

Trembling where foot of mortal ne'er hath been, 
Wrapped in the radiance of thy sinless land, 
Which eye hath never seen. 



LESSON LV. 

PRATER TO LIGHT. 

MRS. DE KEOTFT. 

1. On, holy light ! thou art old as the look of God, and 
eternal as his breath. The angels were rocked in thy lap, and 
their infant smiles were brightened by thee. Creation is in 
thy memory ; by thy torch the throne of Jehovah was set, 
and thy hand burnished the myriad stars that glitter in his 
crown. Worlds, new from His omnipotent hand, were sprin- 
kled with beams from thy baptismal font. At thy golden urn, 
pale Luna comes to fill her silver horn, and Saturn bathes his 
sky-girt rings ; Jupiter lights his waning moons, and Venus 
dips her queenly robes anew. 

2. Thy fountains are shoreless as the ocean of heavenly love ; 
thy center is everywhere, and thy boundary no power has 
marked. Thy beams gild the illimitable fields of space, and 
gladden the farthest verge of the universe. The glories of the 
seventh heaven are open to thy gaze, and thy glare is felt in 
the woes of lowest Erebus. The sealed books of heaven by 
thee are read, and thine eye, like the Infinite, can pierce the 
dark vail of the future, and glance backward through the 
mystic cycles of the past. 

3. Thy touch gives the lily its whiteness, the rose its tint, 
and thy kindling ray makes the diamond's light; thy beams 
are mighty as the power that binds the spheres ; thou canst 
change the sleety winds to soothing zephyrs, and thou canst 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 157 

melt the icy mountains of the poles to gentle rains and dewy- 
vapors. The granite rocks of the hills are upturned by thee, 
volcanoes burst, islands sink and rise, rivers roll, and oceans 
swell at thy look of command. 

4. And oh, thou monarch of the skies, bend now thy bow 
of millioned arrows, and piece, if thou canst, this darkness that 
thrice twelve moons has bound me. Burst now thine eme- 
rald gates, O morn, and let thy dawning come ! My eyes roll 
in vain to find thee, and my soul is weary of this interminable 
gloom. My heart is but the tomb of blighted hopes, and all 
the misery of feelings unemployed, has settled on me. I am 
misfortune's child, and sorrow long since marked me for her 
own. 



LESSON LVI. 

SCENE IN A MAD-HOUSE. 



Stay, jailer, stay, and hear my wo ! 

She is not mad who kneels to thee ; 
For what I'm now, too well I know, 

And what I was, and what should be. 
I'll rave no more in proud despair ; 

My language shall be mild, though sad ; 
But yet I firmly, truly swear, 

I am not mad, I am not mad ! 

My tyrant husband forged the tale, 
Which chains me in this dismal cell ; 

My fate unknown, my friends bewail — 
O ! jailer, haste that fate to tell : 

Oh ! haste my father's heart to cheer : 
His heart at once 'twill grieve and glad 



158 ELOCUTION AND ORATOKT. 

To know, though kept a captive here, 
I am not mad, I am not mad. 

3. He smiles in scorn, and turns the key ; 

He quits the grate ; I knelt in vain ; 
His glimmering lamp, still, still I see — 

'Tis gone ! and all is gloom again. 
Cold, bitter cold ! — no warmth ! no light ! 

Life, all thy comforts once I had ; 
Yet here I'm chained, this freezing night, 

Although not mad ; no, no, not mad. 

4. 'Tis sure some dream, some vision vain ; 

What ! I, — the child of rank and wealth, — 
Am I the wretch who clanks this chain, 

Bereft of freedom, friends, and health % 
Ah ! while I dwell on blessings fled, 

Which never more my heart must glad, 
How aches my heart, how burns my head ; 

But 'tis not mad ; no 'tis not mad. 

5. Hast thou, my child, forgot ere this, 

A mother's face, a mother's tongue ? 
She'll ne'er forget your parting kiss, 

Nor round her neck how fast you clung ; 
Nor how with her you sued to stay ; 

Nor how that suit your sire forbade ; 
Nor how — I'll drive such thoughts away ; 

They'll make me mad, they'll make me mad 

6. His rosy lips, how sweet they smiled ! 

His mild blue eyes, how bright they shone ! 
None ever bore a lovelier child: 

And art thou now forever gone ? 
And must I never see thee more, 

My pretty, pretty, pretty lad ! 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL AND POETICAL. 159 

I will be free ! unbar the door ! 
I am not mad ; I am not mad. 

7. Oh, hark ! what mean those yells and cries % 

His chain some furious madman breaks ; 
He comes, — I see his glaring eyes ; 

Now, now, my dungeon grate he shakes. 
Help! help ! — he's gone ! — oh, fearful wo ! 

Such screams to hear, such sights to see ! 
My brain, my brain, — 1 know, I know, 

I am not mad, but soon shall be. 

8. Yes, soon ; — for, lo ! you, while I speak, 

Mark how yon demon's eyeballs glare ! 
He sees me ; now, with dreadful shriek, 

He whirls a serpent high in air. 
Horror ! the reptile strikes his tooth 

Deep in my heart, so crushed and sad ; 
Aye, laugh, ye fiends I I feel the truth ; 

Your task is done — I'm mad ! I'm mad I 



LESSON LVII. 



EXECUTION OF MADAM ROLAND. 



1. The examination and trial of Madame Roland were but 
a repetition of those charges against the Gironde, with whicli 
every harangue of the Jacobin party was filled. She was re- 
proached with being the wife of Roland, and the friend of his 
accomplices. With a proud look of triumph, Madame Ro- 
land admitted her guilt in both instances ; spoke with tender- 
ness of her husband, with respect of her friends, and with dig- 
nified modesty of herself; but, borne down by the clamors of 



160 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

the court whenever she gave vent to her indignation against her 
persecutors, she ceased speaking amid the threats and invec- 
tives of her hearers. The people were at that period permit- 
ted to take a fearful and leading part in the dialogue between 
the judges and accused ; they even permitted persons on trial 
to address the court, or compelled their silence ; the very ver- 
dict rested with them. 

2. Madame Roland heard herself sentenced to death with 
the air of one who saw in her condemnation merely her title 
to immortality. She rose, and slightly bowing to her judges, 
said, with a bitter and ironical smile, " I thank you for consid- 
ering me worthy to share the fate of the good and great men 
you have murdered ! " She flew down the steps of the Con- 
ciergerie with the rapid swiftness of a child about to obtain 
some long-desired object : the end and aim of her desires was 
death. As she passed along the corridor, where all the prison- 
ers had assembled to greet her return, she looked at them smi- 
lingly, and, drawing her right hand across her throat, made a 
sign expressive of cutting off a head. This was her only fare- 
well ; it was tragic as her destiny, joyous as her deliverance ; 
and well was it understood by those who saw it. Many who 
were incapable of weeping for their own fate shed tears of un- 
feigned sorrow for hers. 

3. On that day (November 10, 1793,) a greater number 
than usual of carts laden with victims rolled onward toward 
the scaffold. Madame Roland was placed in the last, beside an 
infirm old man, named Lamarche. She wore a white robe, as a 
symbol of her innocence, of which she was anxious to convince 
the people ; her magnificent hair, black and glossy as a raven's 
wing, fell in thick masses almost to her knees : her complex- 
ion, purified by her long captivity, and now glowing under the 
influence of a sharp, frosty November day, bloomed with all 
the freshness of early youth. Her eyes were full of expression ; 
her whole countenance seemed radiant with glory, while a 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 161 

movement between pity and contempt agitated her lips. A 
crowd followed them, uttering the coarsest threats and most 
revolting expressions. " To the guillotine ! to the guillotine ! " 
exclaimed the female part of the rabble. 

4. " I am going to the guillotine," replied Madame Roland ; 
" a few moments and I shall be there ; but those who send me 
thither will follow me ere long. I go innocent, but they will 
come stained with blood, and you who applaud our execution 
will then applaud theirs with equal zeal." Sometimes she would 
turn away her head that she might not appear to hear the in- 
sults with which she was assailed, and would lean with almost 
filial tenderness over the aged partner of her execution. The 
poor old man wept bitterly, and she kindly and cheeringly en- 
couraged him to bear up with firmness, and to suffer with res- 
ignation. She even tried to enliven the dreary journey they 
were performing together by little attempts at cheerfulness, and 
at length succeeded in winning a smile from her fellow-sufferer. 

5. A colossal statue of Liberty, composed of clay, like the 
liberty of the time, then stood in the middle of the Place de 
la Concorde, on the spot now occupied by the Obelisk ; the 
scaffold was erected beside this statue. Upon arriving there, 
Madame Roland descended from the cart in which she had been 
conveyed. Just as the executioner had seized her arm to ena- 
able her to be the first to mount to the guillotine, she displayed 
an instance of that noble and tender consideration for others, 
which only a woman's heart could conceive, or put into practice 
at such a moment. " Stay ! " said she, momentarily resisting 
the man's grasp. " I have one only favor to ask, and that is 
not for myself; I beseech you grant it me." Then, turning to 
the old man, she said, " Do you precede me to the scaffold ; to 
see my blood flow would be making you suffer the bitterness 
of death twice over. I must spare you the pain of witnessing 
my punishment." The executioner allowed this arrangement 
to be made. 

11 



lb» ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

6. With what sensibility and firmness must the mind have 
been imbued which could, at such a time, forget its own suffer- 
ings, to think only of saving one pang to an unknown old man ! 
and how clearly does this one little trait attest the heroic calm- 
ness with which this celebrated woman met her death! After 
the execution of Lamarche, which she witnessed without chang- 
ing color, Madame Eoland stepped lightly up to the scaffold, 
and, bowing before the statue of Liberty, as though to do hom- 
age to a power for whom she was about to die, exclaimed, " O, 
Liberty ! Liberty ! how many crimes are committed in thy 
name ! " She then resigned herself to the hands of the execu- 
tioner, and in a few seconds her head fell into the basket placed 
to receive it. 



LESSON LVITI. 



1. A chieftain to the Highlands bound 

Cries, " Boatman, do not tarry ! 
And I'll give thee a silver pound, 
To row us o'er the ferry." 

2. " Now, who be ye would cross Loch-Gyle, 

This dark and stormy water % " 
" O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, 
And this Lord Ullin's daughter. 

3. " And fast before her father's men, 

Three days we've fled together, 
For should he find us in the glen, 
My blood would stain the heather. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 163 

4. " His horsemen hard behind us ride ; 

Should they our steps discover, 
Then who will cheer my bonny bride, 
When they have slain her lover % " 

5. Out spoke the hardy, Highland wight, 

" I'll go, my chief, I'm ready ; 
It is not for your silver bright, 
But for your winsome lady : 

6. " And, by my word ! the bonny bird 

In danger shall not tarry ; 
So, though the waves are raging white, 
I'll row you o'er the ferry." 

7. By this, the storm grew loud apace, 

The water-wraith was shrieking ; 
And, in the scowl of heaven, each face 
Grew dark as they were speaking. 

8. But still, as wilder grew the wind, 

And as the night grew drearer, 
Adown the glen rode armed men, 
Their trampling sounded nearer. 

9. " haste thee, haste ! " the lady cries, 

" Though tempests round us gather ; 
I'll meet the raging of the skies, 
But not my angry father." 

10. The boat has left the stormy land, 

A stormy sea before her, 
When, oh ! too strong for human hand, 
The tempest gathered o'er her. 

11. And still they rowed against the roar 

Of waters, fast prevailing ; 
Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore, 
His wrath was changed to wailing. 



1C4 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

12. For, sore dismayed, through storm and shade, 

His child he did discover, 
One lovely hand she stretched for aid, 
And one was round her lover. 

13. " Come back ! come back ! " he cried in grief, 

" Across this stormy water, 
And I'll forgive your Highland chief;- 
My daughter ! oh, my daughter ! " 

14. 'Twas vain : the loud waves lashed the shore, 

Eeturn, or aid preventing : 
The waters wild went o'er his child, 
And he was left lamenting. 



LESSON LIX. 

EULOGY ON HAMILTON. 



1. He was born to be great. Whoever was second, Ham- 
ilton must be first. To his stupendous and versatile mind 
no investigation was difficult — no subject presented which he 
did not illuminate. Superiority in some particular, belongs to 
thousands. Preeminence, in whatever he chose to undertake, 
was the prerogative of Hamilton. No fixed criterion could 
be applied to his talents. Often has their display been sup- 
posed to have reached the limit of human effort ; and the judg- 
ment stood firm till set aside by himself. 

2. When a cause of new magnitude required new exertions, 
he rose, he towered, he soared ; surpassing himself as he sur- 
passed others. Then was nature tributary to his eloquence ! 
Then was felt his despotism over the heart ! Touching, at his 
pleasure, every string of pity or terror, of indignation or grief. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 165 

he melted, he soothed, he roused, he agitated; alternately gen- 
tle as the dews, and awful as the thunder. 

3. Yet, great as he was in the eyes of the world, he was greater 
in the eyes of those with whom he was most conversant. The 
greatness of most men, like objects seen through a mist, di- 
minishes with the distance ; but Hamilton, like a tower seen 
afar off under a clear sky, rose in grandeur and sublimity with 
every step of approach. Familiarity with him was the parent 
of veneration. 

3. Over these matchless talents, probity threw her brightest 
luster. Frankness, suavity, tenderness, benevolence, breathed 
through their exercise. And to his family — but he is gone — 
that noble heart beats no more : that eye of fire is dimmed; 
and sealed are those oracular lips. Americans, the. serenest 
beam of your glory is extinguished in the tomb 1 

4. The death of Hamilton is no common affliction. The 
loss of distinguished men is, at all times, a calamity ; but the 
loss of such a man, at such a time, and in the very meridian 
of his usefulness, is singularly portentous. When Washington 
was taken, Hamilton was left — but Hamilton is taken, and 
we have no Washington. We have not such another man to 
die ! Washington and Hamilton in five years ! Bereaved 
America ! 



LESSON LX. 

BATTLE OF WARSAW. 

CAMPBELL. 



1. Oh! sacred truth, thy triumph ceased awhile, 
And hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile, 
When leagued oppression poured to northern wars 
Her whiskered panders, and her fierce hussars, 



166 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Wav'd her dread standard to the breeze of morn, 
Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn ! 
Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van, 
Presaging wrath to Poland and to man. 

2. Warsaw's last champion from her height surveyed, 
Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid ; 

Oh, Heaven ! he cried, my bleeding country save ! 
Is there no hand on high to shield the brave 1 
Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains, 
Rise, fellow-men ! our country yet remains ! 
By that dread name, we wave the sword on high, 
And swear for her to live, with her to die ! 

3. He said, and on the rampart heights arrayed, 
His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed ; 
Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, 
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm ; 
Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly, 
Revenge or death ! — the watchword and reply ; 
Then pealed the notes omnipotent to charm, 
And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm. 

4. In vain, alas ! in vain, ye gallant few ! 

From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew ; 
Oh, bloodiest picture in the " book of time ! " 
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime ! 
Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe, 
Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe ! 
Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear, 
Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career ; 
Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell, 
And freedom shrieked as Kosciusko fell ! 

5. The sun went down, nor ceased the carnage there, 
Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air ! 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 167 

On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow ; 
His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below ; 
The storm prevails, the rampart yields away, 
Bursts the wild cry of horror and dismay ! 
Hark ! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall, 
A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call ; 
Earth shook — red meteors flashed along the sky, 
And conscious nature shuddered at the cry. 



LESSON LXI. 

emmet's last speech. 

1. My Lords : — Let no man dare, when I am dead, to 
charge me with dishonor ! let no man attaint my memory, by 
believing that I could have engaged in any cause but that of 
my country's liberty and independence ; or, that I could have 
become the pliant minion of power, in the oppression or the 
miseries of my countrymen. 

2. The proclamation of the provisional government speaks 
for our views ; no inference can be tortured from it, to counte- 
nance barbarity or debasement at home, or subjection, humil- 
iation, or treachery, from abroad ; I would not have submitted 
to a foreign oppressor, for the same reason that I would re- 
sist the domestic tyrant ; in the dignity of freedom, I would 
have fought upon the threshold of my country, and its enemy 
should enter only by passing over my lifeless corpse. 

3. Am I, who lived but for my country, and who have sub- 
jected myself to the dangers of the jealous and watchful op- 
pressor, and the bondage of the grave, only to give my coun- 
trymen their rights, and my country her independence, am 
I to be loaded with calumny, and not suffered to resent it or re- 
pel it — no, God forbid ! 



168 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

4. If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the con- 
cerns and cares of those who are dear to them, in this transitory 
life, O ever dear and venerated shade of my departed father, 
look down with scrutiny upon the conduct of your suffering 
son ; and see if I have, even for a moment, deviated from those 
principles of morality and patriotism, which it was your care 
to instil into my youthful mind, and for which I am now to 
offer up my life. 

5. My lords, you are impatient for the sacrifice. The blood 
which you seek, is not congealed by the artificial terrors which 
surround your victim ; it circulates, warmly and unruffled, 
through the channels which God created for noble purposes, 
but which you are bent to destroy, for purposes so grievous 
that they cry to heaven. 

6. Be yet patient ; I have but a few more words to say. I 
am going to my cold and silent grave ; my lamp of life is 
nearly extinguished ; my race is run ; the grave opens to re- 
ceive me, and I sink into its bosom ! I have but one request 
to ask at my departure from this world — it is the charity of 
its silence. Let no man write my epitaph : for, as no man, 
who knows my motives, dare now vindicate them, let not pre- 
judice or ignorance asperse them. Let them and me repose 
in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed, until 
other times and other men can do justice to my character : 
when my country takes her place among the nations of the 
earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written. I 
have done. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 169 

LESSON LXII, 
Antony's oration over cesar. 

SHAKSPEAKE. 

1. Friends, Eomans, countrymen ! Lend me your ears ; 
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 

The evil that men do lives after them ; 
The good is oft interred with their bones 
So let it be with Caesar ! Noble Brutus 
Hath told you, Caesar was ambitious : 
If it were so, it were a grievous fault 3 
And grievously hath Caesar answered it. 
Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest, 
(For Brutus is an honorable man, 
So are they all, all honorable men,) 
Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. 

2. He was my friend, faithful and just to me : 
But Brutus says he was ambitious ; 

And Brutus is an honorable man. 
He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : 
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious 1 

3. When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept ; 
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff; 

Yet Brutus says he w T as ambitious ; 

And Brutus is an honorable man. 

You all did see, that, on the Lupercal, 

I thrice presented him a kingly crown, 

Which he did thrice refuse ; was this ambition % 

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 

And sure, he is an honorable man. 

4. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, 
But here I am, to speak what I do know. 

H 



170 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

You all did love him once ; not without cause : 
What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him ? 
O judgment ! thou art fled to brutish beasts, 
And men have lost their reason ! Bear with me : 
My heart is in the coffin there, with Caesar ; 
And I must pause, till it come back to me. 

5. But yesterday, the word of Caesar might 

Have stood against the world ! now, lies he there, 
And none so poor to do him reverence. 

masters ! if I were disposed to stir 
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 

1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong ; 
Who, you all know, are honorable men. 

I will not do them wrong ; I rather choose 
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you, 
Than I will wrong such honorable men. 

6. But here's a parchment, with the seal of Caesar ; 
I found it in his closet ; 'tis his will : 

Let but the commons hear this testament, 
(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,) 
And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, 
And dip their napkins in his sacred blood — 
Yea, beg a hair of him, for memory, 
And, dying, mention it within their wills ; 
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, 
Unto their issue. 

7. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. 
You all do know this mantle : I remember 
The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 
'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent ; 
That day he overcome the Nervii. 

Look ! in this place, ran Cassius' dagger through, 
See, what a rent the envious Casca made : 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 171 

Through this, the well beloved Brutus stabbed, 

And, as he plucked his cursed steel away, 

Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it! 

This was the most unkindest cut of all ! 

For when the noble Caesar saw him stab, 

Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, 

Quite vanquished him : then burst his mighty heart ; 

And in his mantle muffling up his face, 

Even at the base of Pompey's statue, 

(Which all the while ran blood,) great Caesar fell. 

8. what a fall was there, my countrymen ! 
Then I, and you, and all of us, fell down, 
Whilst bloody treason nourished over us. 
O, now you weep ; and, I perceive, you feel 
The dint of pity : These are gracious drops. 
Kind souls ! what, weep you, when you but behold 
Our Caesar's vesture wounded 1 Look you here ! • 
Here is himself, marred, as you see, by traitors. 
Good friends ! sweet friends ! let me not stir you up 
To such a sudden flood of mutiny. 

9. They that have done this deed are honorable ; 
What private griefs they have, alas ! I know not, 
That made them do it ; they are wise, and honorable, 
And will, no doubt, with reason answer you. 

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts ; 
I am no orator, as Brutus is ; 
But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man, 
That love my friend — and that they know full well, 
That gave me public leave to speak of him. 

10. For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 
Action, nor utterance, nor power of speech, 
To stir men's blood ; I only speak right on : 
I tell you that which you yourselves do know — 



172 



ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 



Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, 

And bid them speak for me. 

But were I Brutus, 

And Brutus, Antony, there were an Antony 

Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 

In every wound of Caesar, that should move 

The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 



LESSON LXm. 



FALSE AND TRUE ENERGY. 



1. You object to Mr. Madison, the want of energy. The 
want of energy ! How has Mr. Madison shown it % Was it 
in standing abreast with the van of our revolutionary patriots, 
and braving the horrors of a seven years' war for liberty, while 
you were shuddering at the sound of the storm, and clinging 
closer with terror to your mothers' breasts 1 Was it, on the 
declaration of our independence, in being among the first and 
most effective agents in casting aside the feeble threads which 
so poorly connected the states together, and, in lieu of them, 
substituting that energetic bond of union, the federal constitu- 
tion 1 Was it in the manner in which he advocated the adop- 
tion of this substitute ; in the courage and firmness with which 
he met, on this topic, fought hand to hand, and finally van- 
quished, that boasted prodigy of nature, Patrick Henry? 
Where was this timid and apprehensive spirit which you are 
pleased to ascribe to Mr. Madison, when he sat under the 
sound of Henry's voice for days and weeks together ; when he 
saw that Henry, whose soul had so undauntedly led the revo- 
lution, shrinking back from this bold experiment, from the en- 
ergy of this new and untried constitution ; when he heard the 
magic of his eloquence exerted to its highest pitch, in painting, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 173 

with a prophet's fire, the oppressions which would flow from 
it; in harrowing up the soul with anticipated horrors, and en- 
listing even the thunders of heaven in his cause % 

2. How did it happen that the feeble and effeminate spirit 
of James Madison, instead of flying in confusion and dismay be- 
fore this awful and tremendous combination, sat serene and un- 
moved upon its throne ; that, with a penetration so vigorous 
and clear, he dissipated these phantoms of fancy, rallied back 
the courage of the house to the charge, and, in the state of Vir- 
ginia, in which Patrick Henry was almost adored as infallible, 
succeeded in throwing that Henry into a minority % Is this the 
proof of his want of energy ? Or will you find it in the manner 
in which he watched the first movements of the federal consti- 
tution ; in the boldness with which he resisted what he deemed 
infractions of its spirit ; in the independence, ability, and vigor, 
with which, in spite of declining health, he maintained this con- 
flict during eight years % He was then in a manority. Turn 
to the debates of congress, and read his arguments : you will 
see how the business of a virtuous and able minority is con- 
ducted. Do you discover in them airy evidence of want of en- 
ergy ? Yes ; if energy consist, as you seem to think it does, 
in saying rude things, in bravado and bluster, in pouring a 
muddy torrent of coarse invective, as destitute of argument as 
unwarranted by provocation, you will find great evidence of 
want of energy in his speeches. 

3. But, if true energy be evinced, as we think it is, by the 
calm and dignified, yet steady, zealous, and persevering pursuit 
of an object, his whole conduct during that period is honorably 
marked with energy. And that energy rested on the most 
solid and durable basis — conscious rectitude ; supported by the 
most profound and extensive information, by an habitual 
power of investigation, which unraveled, with intuitive cer- 
tainty, the most intricate subjects ; and an eloquence, chaste, 
luminous, and cogent, which won respect, while it forced con- 



174 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

viction. We have compared some of our highest and most 
vaunted displays with the speeches of Mr. Madison, during his 
services in congress. What a contrast ! It is the noisy and 
short-lived babbling of a brook after a rain, compared with the 
majestic course of the Potomac. 

4. Yet, you have the vanity and hardihood to ask for the 
proof of his talents ! You, who have as yet shown no talents 
that can be of service to your country — no talents beyond 
those of the merciless Indian, who dexterously strikes a toma- 
hawk into the defenseless heart ! But what an idea is yours 
of energy ! You feel a constitutional irritability; you indulge 
it, and you call that indulgence energy ! Sudden fits of spleen 
transient starts of passion, wild paroxysms of fury, the more 
slow and secret workings of envy and resentment, cruel taunts 
and sarcasms, the dreams of disordered fancy, the crude abor- 
tions of short-sighted theory, the delirium and ravings of a hec- 
tic fever — this is your notion of energy ! Heaven preserve 
our country from such energy as this ! If this be the kind of 
energy which you deny to Mr. Madison, the people will con- 
cur in your denial. But, if you deny him that salutary en- 
ergy which qualifies him to pursue his country's happiness and 
to defend her rights, we follow up the course of his public life, 
and demand the proof of your charge. 



LESSON LXIV. 



1. Why am I thus 1 the maniac cried, 
Confined 'mid crazy people 1 Why ? 
I am not mad — knave, stand aside ! 
I'll have my freedom, or I'll die ; 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 175 

It's not for cure that here I've come ; 
I tell thee, all I want is rum — 
I must have rum ! 

2. Sane % yes, and have been all the while ; 

"Why, then, tormented thus ? 'Tis sad : 
Why chained, and held in duress vile 1 

The men who brought me here were mad ; 
I will not stay where specters come ; 
Let me go home : I must have rum — 
I must have rum ! 

3. 'Tis he ! 'tis he ! my aged sire ! 

What has disturbed thee in thy grave % 
Why bend on me that eye of fire % 

Why torment, since thou canst not save ? 
Back to the church-yard whence you've come ! 
Return, return ! but send me rum — 
O, send me rum ! 

4. Why is my mother musing there, 

On that same consecrated spot, 
Where once she taught me words of prayer % 

But now she hears — she heeds me not. 
Mute in her winding-sheet she stands ; 
Cold, cold, I feel her icy hands — 
Her icy hands ! 

5. She's vanished ; but a dearer friend, 

I know her by her angel smile, 
Has come her partner to attend, 

His hours of misery to beguile ; 
Haste ! haste ! loved one, and set me free ; 
'Twere heaven to 'scape from hence to thee — 
From hence to thee. 



176 ELOCUTION AXD ORATORY. 

• 6. She does not hear ; away she flies. 

Regardless of the chain I wear, 
Back to her mansion in the skies, 

To dwell with kindred spirits there. 
Why has she gone ? Why did she come 
O God, I'm ruined ! Give me rum ! 



0, 



ave me rum 



7. Hark ! hark ! for bread my children cry, 

A cry that drinks my spirits up ; 
But 'tis in vain, in vain to try ; 

O give me back the drunkard's cup ! 
My lips are parched, my heart is sad ; 
This cursed chain ! 'twill make me mad — 
'Twill make me mad ! 

8. It wont wash out, that crimson stain ! 

I've scoured those spots, and made them white ; 
Blood reappears again, again, 

Soon as the morning brings the light ! 
When from my sleepless couch I come, 
To see — to feel — give me rum ! 
I must have rum ! 

9. Twas there I heard his piteous cry, 

And saw his last imploring look, 
But steeled my heart, and bade him die, 

Then from him golden treasures took ; 
Accursed treasure ! stinted sum ! 
Reward of guilt ! Give, give me rum — 
O, give me rum ! 

10. Hark ! still I hear that piteous wail ; 
Before my eyes his specter stands ; 
And when it frowns on me I quail ! 
O, I would fly to other lands ! 






RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 177 

But, that pursuing, there 'twould come ; 
There's no escape ! O, give me rum — 
O, give me rum ! 

11. Guard, guard those windows ! bar that door ! 
Yonder I armed bandits see ! 
They've robbed my house of all its store, 

And now return to murder me ; 
They're breaking in ! don't let them come ! 
Drive, drive them hence ! but give me rum f 
O, eive me rum ! 



give me rum 



12. I stake again ? not I ; no more, 

Heartless, accursed gamester, no ! 
I staked with thee my all before, 

And from thy den a beggar go ! 
Go where ? A suicide to hell ! 

And leave my orphan children here, 
In rags and wretchedness to dwell, 

A doom their father cannot bear. 

13. Will no one pity % no one come % 

Not thou ; O come not, man of prayer ! 
Shut that dread volume in thy hand ; 

For me damnation's written there — 
No drunkard can in judgment stand ! 

14. Talk not of pardon there revealed ; 

No, not to me, it is too late ; 
My sentence is already sealed ; 

Tears never blot the book of fate ; 
Too late, too late these tidings come ; 
There is no hope ! O give me rum ! 
I must have rum ! 
H* 12 



178 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

15. See how that rug those reptiles soil ! 

They're crawling o'er me in my bed ! 
I feel their clammy, snaky coil 

On every limb — around my head ; 
With forked tongue I see them play ; 
I hear them hiss — tear them away ! 
Tear them away ! 

16. A fiend ! a fiend ! with many a dart, 

Glares on me with his blood-shot eye, 
And aims his missiles at my heart, — 

O, whither, whither shall I fly ! 
Fly % no, it is no time for flight ! 

Fiend ! I know thy hellish purpose well ! 
Avaunt, avaunt, thou hated sprite, 

And hie thee to thy native hell ! 

17. He's gone ! he's gone ! and I am free ; 

He's gone, the faithless, braggart liar 
He said he'd come to summon me — 

See there again, my bed's on fire ! 
Fire J water ! help ! haste, I die I 

The flames are kindling round my head ! 
This smoke ! — I'm strangling ! — cannot fly ! 

O, snatch me from this burning bed ! 

18. There, there again ! that demon's there, 

Crouching to make a fresh attack ; 
See how his flaming eye-balls glare ! 

Thou fiend of fiends, what's brought thee back % 
Back in thy car % for whom ? for where ? 

He smiles, he beckons me to come ; 
What are those words thou'st written there 1— 

" In hell they never want for rum ! " 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 179 

Not want for rum ? Eead that again ! 

I feel the spell ! haste, drive me down 
Where rum is free, where revelers reign, 

And I can wear the drunkard's crown, 

19. Accept thy proffer, fiend 1 I will, 

And to thy drunken banquet come ; 
Fill the great cauldron from thy still 

"With boiling, burning, fiery rum ; 
There will I quench this horrid thirst, 

With boon companions drink and dwell. 
Nor plead for rum, as here I must — 

There's liberty to drink in hell ! 

20. Thus raved that maniac rum had made ; 

Then starting from his haunted bed, 
On, on ! ye demons, on ! he said, 

Then silent sunk — his soul had fled. 
Scoffer, beware ! he in that shroud, 

Was once a temperate drinker, too ! 



•» • I 



LESSON LXV. 

TERRIFIC SCENE AT THE GREAT NATURAL BRIDGE, VIRGINIA. 



1. There are three or four lads standing in the channel be- 
low, looking up with awe to that vast arch of unhewn rocks, 
which the Almighty bridged over those everlasting butments 
"when the morning stars sang together." The little piece of 
sky spanning those measureless piers, is full of stars, although 
it is mid-day. 

2. It is almost five hundred feet from where they stand, up 
those perpendicular bulwarks of limestone, to the key rock of 



180 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

that vast arch, which appears to them only of the size of a man's 
hand. The silence of death is rendered more impressive by 
the little stream that falls from rock to rock down the channel. 
The sun is darkened, and the boys have unconsciously uncov- 
ered their heads, as if standing in the presence-chamber of the 
Majesty of the whole earth. 

3. At last, this feeling begins to wear away ; they begin to 
look around them ; they find that others have been there be- 
fore them. They see the names of hundreds cut in the lime- 
stone butments. A new feeling comes over their young hearts, 
and their knives are in their hands in an instant. " What man 
has done, man can do," is their watchword, while they draw 
themselves up, and carve their names a foot above those of a 
hundred full-grown men, who have been there before them. 

4. They are all satisfied with this feat of physical exertion, 
except one, whose example illustrates perfectly the forgotten 
truth, that there is no royal road to intellectual eminence. This 
ambitious youth sees a name just above his reach, a name that 
will be green in the memory of the world, when those of Al- 
exander, Caesar, and Bonaparte shall rot in oblivion. It was the 
name of Washington. Before he marched with Braddock to 
that fatal field, he had been there, and left his name a foot 
above all his predecessors. 

5. It was a glorious thought of the boy, to write his name 
side by side with that of the great father of his country. He 
grasps his knife with a firmer hand ; and, clinging to a little 
jutting crag, he cuts a niche into the limestone, about a foot 
above where he stands ; he then reaches up and cuts another 

■ for his hands. 'Tis a dangerous adventure ; but, as he puts his 
feet and hands into those niches, and draws himself up care- 
fully to his full length, he finds himself a foot above every 
name chronicled in that mighty wall. 

6. While his companions are regarding him with concern 
and admiration, he cuts his name in rude capitals, large and 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 181 

deep, into that flinty album. His knife is still in his hand, and 
strength in his sinews, and a new-created aspiration in his heart. 
Again he cuts another niche, and again he carves his name in 
larger capitals. This is not enough. Heedless of the entreat- 
ies of his companions, he cuts and climbs again. The grada- 
tions of his ascending scale grow wider apart. He measures 
his length at every gain he cuts. The voices of his friends wax 
weaker and weaker, till their words are finally lost on his ear. 

7. He now, for the first time, casts a look beneath him. 
Had that glance lasted a moment, that moment would have 
been his last. He clings, with a convulsive shudder to his lit- 
tle niche in the rock. An awful abyss awaits his almost cer- 
tain fall. He is faint with severe exertion, and trembling, from 
the sudden view of the dreadful destruction to which he is ex. 
posed. His knife is worn half-way to the haft. He can hear 
the voices, but not the words, of his terror-stricken companions 
below. 

8. What a moment ! What a meager chance to escape de- 
struction ! There is no retracing his steps. It is impossible to 
put his hands into the same niche with his feet and retain his 
slender hold a moment. His companions instantly perceive 
this new and fearful dilemma, and await his fall with emotions 
that "freeze their young blood." He is too high, too faint, to 
ask for his father and mother, his brothers and sisters, to come 
and witness or avert his destruction. But one of his compan- 
ions anticipates his desire. Swift as the wind, he bounds down 
the channel, and the situation of the fated boy is told upon -his 
father's hearth-stone. 

9. Minutes of almost eternal length roll on, and there are 
hundreds standing in that rocky channel, and hundreds on the 
bridge above, all holding their breath, and awaiting the fearful 
catastrophe. The poor boy hears the hum of new and numer. 
ous voices both above and below, He can just distinguish the 
tones of his father, who is shouting with all the energy of des. 



182 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

pair: "William! William! don't look down ! Your mother, 
and Henry, and Harriet, are all here, praying for you ! Keep 
your eye toward the top ! " The boy didn't look down." 

10. His eye is fixed like a flint toward heaven, and his young 
heart on Him who reigns there. He grasps again his knife. 
He cuts another niche, and another foot is added to the hun- 
dreds that remove him from the reach of human help from be- 
low. How carefully he uses his wasting blade ! How anx- 
iously he selects the softest places in that vast pier ! How he 
avoids every flinty grain ! How he economizes his physical 
powers, resting a moment at each gain he cuts ! How every 
motion is watched from below ! There stand his father, mother, 
brother, and sister, on the very spot where, if he falls, he will 
not fall alone. 

11. The sun is now half-way down the west. The lad has 
made fifty additional niches in that mighty wall, and now finds 
himself directly under the middle of that vast arch of rocks, 
earth, and trees. He must cut his way in a new direction, to 
get from under this overhanging mountain. The inspiration of 
hope is dying in his bosom ; its vital heat is fed by the increas- 
ing shouts of hundreds, perched upon cliffs and trees, and others 
who stand with ropes in their hands, on the bridge above, or 
with ladders below. Fifty gains more must be cut before the 
longest rope can reach him. 

12. His wasting blade strikes again into the limestone. 
The boy is emerging painfully, foot by foot, from under that 
lofty arch. Spliced ropes are ready, in the hands of those who 
are leaning over the outer edge of the bridge. Two minutes 
more, and all will be over. The blade is worn to the last half- 
inch. The boy's head reels ; his eyes are starting from their 
sockets. His last hope is dying in his heart ; his life must 
hang upon the next gain he cuts. That niche is his last. At 
the last faint gash he makes, his knife, his faithful knife, falls 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 183 

from his little nerveless hand, and, ringing along the precipice, 
falls at his mother's feet. 

13. An involuntary groan of despair runs like a death-knell 
through the channel below, and all is as still as the grave. At 
the height of nearly three hundred feet, the devoted boy lifts 
his hopeless heart, and closes his eyes to commend his soul to 
God. 'Tis but a moment — there! one foot swings off! he is 
reeling — trembling — toppling — over into eternity ! 

14. Hark ! a shout falls on his ear from above. The 
man who is lying with half his length over the bridge 
has caught a glimpse of the boy's head and shoulders. Quick 
as thought the noosed rope is within reach of the sinking 
youth. No one breathes. With a faint, convulsive effort, 
the swooning boy drops his arms into the noose. Darkness 
comes over him, and with the words, God, and Mother ! whis- 
pered on his lips, just loud enough to be heard in heaven — the 
tightening rope lifts him out of this last shallow niche. 

15. Not a lip moves while he is dangling over that fearful 
abyss ; but when a sturdy Virginian reaches down and draws 
up the lad, and holds him up in his arms before the tearful, 
breathless multitude, such shouting — such leaping and weeping 
for joy — never greeted the ear of a human being so recovered 
from the yawning gulf of eternity. 



LESSON LXVI. 



A WORD IN KINDNESS. 



AKOXTMOU9. 



1. A little word in kindness spoken, 
A motion or a tear, 
Has often healed the heart that's broken, 
And made a friend sincere. 



184 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

2. A word, a look, has crushed to earth 

Full many a budding flower, 
Which, if a smile had owned its birth, 
Had blessed life's darkest hour. 

3. Then deem it not an idle thing 

A pleasant word to speak ; 
The face you wear, the thoughts you bring, 
A heart may heal or break. 



LESSON LXVII. 

MAN AND WOMAN. 



First Speaker. 

1. Man is the proud and lofty pine, 

That frowns on many a wave-beat shore ; 
Second Speaker. 

2. Woman, the young and tender vine, 
Whose curling tendrils round it twine, 
And deck its rough bark sweetly o'er 

First Speaker. 

3. Man is the rOck, whose towering crest 
Nods o'er the mountain's barren side ; 

Second Speaker. 

4. Woman, the soft and mossy vest, 
That loves to clasp its sterile breast, 
And wreathe its brow with verdant pride. 

First Speaker. 

5. Man is the cloud of coming storm, 
Dark as the raven's murky plume, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 185 

Second- Speaker. 

6. Save where the sunbeam, light and warm, 
Of woman's soul — of woman's form, 
Gleams brightly through the gathering gloom. 

First Speaker. 

7. Yes, 'tis to lovely woman given, 

To soothe our griefs, our woes allay ; 
To heal the heart by misery riven — 
Change earth into an embryo heaven, 

And drive life's fiercest cares away. 



LESSON LXVffl. 

SPEECH OF BLACK HAWK. 

1. You have taken me prisoner, with all my warriors. I am 
much grieved, for I expected, if I did not defeat you, to hold 
out much longer, and give you more trouble before I surren- 
dered. I tried hard to bring you into ambush, but your last 
general understands Indian fighting. I determined to rush on 
you, and fight you face to face. I fought hard. But your guns 
were well aimed. The bullets flew like birds in the air, and 
whizzed by our ears like the wind through the trees in winter. 
My warriors fell around me ; it began to look dismal. I saw 
my evil day at hand. 

2. The sun rose dim on us in the morning, and at night it 
sank in a dark cloud, and looked like a ball of fire. That was 
the last sun that shone on Black Hawk. His heart is dead, and 
no longer beats quick in his bosom. He is now a prisoner to 
the white men. They will do with him as they wish. But 
he can stand torture, and is not afraid of death. He is no cow- 
ard. Black Hawk is an Indian. 

3. He has done nothing for which an Indian ought to be 



186 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

ashamed. He has fought for his countrymen, the squaws and 
pappooses, against white men, who came, year after year, to 
cheat them and take away their lands. You know the "cause 
of our making war. It is known to all white men. They 
ought to be ashamed of it. The white men despise the Indians, 
and drive them from their homes. But the Indians are not de- 
ceitful. The white men speak bad of the Indian, and look at 
him spitefully. But the Indian does not tell lies ; Indians do 
not steal. 

4. An Indian who is as bad as the white men could not live 
in our nation ; he would be put to death, and eat up by the 
wolves. The white men are bad school-masters. They carry 
false looks, and deal in false actions. They smile in the face 
of the poor Indians to cheat them. They shake them by the 
hand to gain their confidence, to make them drunk, and to de- 
ceive them. We told them to let us alone, and keep away 
from us; but they followed on, and beset our paths, and they 
coiled themselves among us, like the snake. They poisoned 
us by their touch. We were not safe. We lived in danger. 
We were becoming like them — hypocrites and liars, adulterers, 
and lazy drones, all talkers and no workers. 

5. We looked up to the Great Spirit. We went to our 
father. We were encouraged. His great council gave us fair 
words and big promises; but we got no satisfaction, things 
were growing worse. There were no deer in the forest. The 
opossum and the beaver were fled. The springs were drying 
up, and our squaws and pappooses without victuals to keep 
them from starving. We called a great council, and built a 
large fire. The spirit of our fathers arose and spoke to us, to 
avenge our wrongs or die. 

6. We all spoke before the council-fire. It was warm and 
pleasant. We set up the war-whoop, and dug up the toma- 
hawk. Our knives were ready, and the heart of Black Hawk 
swelled high in his bosom, when he led his warriors to battle. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 187 

He is satisfied. He will go to the world of spirits contented. 
He has done his duty. His father will meet him there and 
commend him. 



LESSON LXIX. 

SPEECH OF RED JACKET. 

1. Friend and Brother : — It was the will of the Great 
Spirit that we should meet together this day. He orders all 
things, and has given us a fine day for our council. He has 
taken his garment from before the sun, and caused it to shine 
with brightness upon us. Our eyes are opened that we see 
clearly ; our ears are unstopped that we have been able to hear 
distinctly the words you have spoken. For all these favors 
we thank the Great Spirit, and Him only. 

2. Brother, listen to what w r e say. There was a time when 
our forefathers owned this great island. Their seats extended 
from the rising to the setting sun ; the Great Spirit had made 
it for the use of the Indians. He had created the buffalo, the 
deer, and other animals, for food. He had made the bear and 
the beaver ; their skins served us for clothing. He had scat- 
tered them over the country, and taught us how to take them. 
He had caused the earth to produce corn for bread. All this 
he had done for his red children, because he loved them. 

3. If we had disputes about our hunting-ground, they were 
generally settled without the shedding of much blood. But an 
evil day came upon us; your forefathers crossed the great 
waters and landed on this island. Their numbers were small ; 
they found us friends, and not enemies. They told us they 
had fled from their own country through fear of wicked men, 
and had come here to enjoy their religion. They asked for a 



188 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

small seat ; we took pity on them, and granted their request ; 
and they sat down among us. We gave them corn and meat; 
and, in return, they gave us poison. 

4. The white people now having found our country, tidings 
were sent back, and more came amongst us ; yet we did not 
fear them. We took them to be friends : they called us broth- 
ers; we believed them, and gave them a larger seat. At 
length, their numbers so increased that they wanted more land : 
they wanted our country. Our eyes were opened, and we be- 
came uneasy. Wars took place ; Indians were hired to fight 
against Indians; and many of our people were destroyed. 
They also distributed liquor amongst us, which has slain 
thousands. 

5. Brother, once our seats were large, and yours were small. 
You have now become a great people, and we have scarcely a 
place left to spread our blankets. You have got our country, 
but, not satisfied, you want to force your religion upon us. 

6. Brother, continue to listen. You say you are sent to in- 
struct us how to worship the Great Spirit agreeably to his 
mind, and that if we do not take hold of the religion which 
you teach, we shall be unhappy hereafter. How do we know 
this to be true ? We understand that your religion is written 
in a book. If it was intended for us as well as you, why has 
not the Great Spirit given it to us ; and not only to us, but 
why did he not give to our forefathers the knowledge of that 
book, with the means of rightly understanding it 1 We only 
know what you tell us about it, and having been so often de- 
ceived by the white people, how shall we believe what they 
sav 1 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 189 

• LESSON LXX. 

STORY AND SPEECH OF LOGAN. 

1. In the spring of the year 1774, a robbery was committed 
by some Indians on certain land adventurers on the Ohio river. 
The whites in that quarter, according to their custom, under- 
took to punish this outrage in a summary way. Captain Mi- 
chael Cresap, and a certain Daniel Greathouse, leading on these 
parties, surprised, at different times, traveling and hunting par- 
ties of the Indians, having their women and children with them, 
and murdered many. Among these were, unfortunately, the 
family of Logan, a chief, celebrated in peace and war, and long 
distinguished as the friend of the whites. 

2. This unworthy return provoked his vengeance. He ac- 
cordingly signalized himself in the war which ensued. In the 
autumn of the same year, a decisive battle was fought at the 
mouth of the Great Kenawha, between the collected forces of 
the Shawanese, Mingoes, and Delawares, and a detachment of 
the Virginia militia. The Indians were defeated, and sued for 
peace. Logan, however, disdained to be seen among the sup- 
pliants. But lest the sincerity of a treaty should be distrusted, 
from which so distinguished a chief absented himself, he sent 
by a messenger the following speech, to be delivered to Lord 
Dunmore. 

3. " I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he entered 
Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat ; if ever he 
came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. During the 
course of the last long and bloody war, Logan remained idle 
in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for the 
whites, that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, 
'Logan is the friend of white men.' 

4. " I had even thought to have lived with you, but for the 
injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold 
blood, and unprovoked, murdered all the relations of Logan, 



190 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

not even sparing my women and children. There runs not a 
drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This 
called on me for revenge. I have sought it ; I have killed many; 
I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice 
at the beams of peace ; but do not harbor a thought that mine 
is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn 
on his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Lo- 
gan % Not one." 



LESSON LXXL 

THE ORPHAN SISTERS. 



ANONYMOTJ8. 



1. Two sisters, one a little child, 

The other but half grown, 
Together watched the setting sun, 
Which through the casement shone. 

2. They waited in their lonely home, 

Where late their mother died, 
Their father's coming, who had gone 
To wed another bride. 

3. And thus they stood, their twining arms 

About each other wound, 
In token of affection's ties, 

By which their hearts were bound. 

4. The bridal company arrived, 

And they went forth to meet 

Their father and their father's wife, 

With slow and lingering feet. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 191 

5. A beauteous and a gentle bride, 

They gazed upon her face ; 
The elder first accosted her 
"With sweet and native grace : 

6. " A welcome, for my father's sake, 

I fain would give to thee ; 
O, for his sake, be kind to us, 
This little one and me." 

7. The younger clasped the lady's neck, 

And smilingly she said : 
"I'm glad you have come back again, 
They told me you were dead." 

8. These simple greetings touched a chord 

In that fair lady's heart, 
And inwardly she made a vow 
To act the mother's part. 

9. Her promise she has well fulfilled 

Unto those sisters twain ; 
The mother lost has been in her 
Restored to them again. 



LESSON LXXLL 

DESCRIPTION OF BYRON. 



1. He touched his harp, and nations heard, entranced. 
As some vast river of unfailing source, 
Rapid, exhaiiistless, deep, his numbers flowed, 
And oped new fountains in the human heart. 
Where fancy halted, weary in her flight, 
In other men, his, fresh as morning rose, 



192 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

And soared untrodded heights, and seemed at home, 
Where angels bashful looked. Others, though great, 
Beneath their argument seemed struggling whiles ; 
He from above descending, stooped to touch 
The loftiest thought ; and proudly stooped, as though 
It scarce deserved his verse. 

2. With nature's self 
He seemed an old acquaintance, free to jest 
At will with all her glorious majesty. 

He laid his hand upon " the ocean's mane." 

And played familiar with his hoary locks. 

Stood on the Alps, stood on the Appenines ; 

And with the thunder talked, as friend to friend ; 

And wove his garland of the lightning's wing, 

In sportive twist — the lightning's fiery wing, 

Which, as the foosteps of the dreadful God, 

Marching upon the storm in vengeance seemed — 

Then turned, and with the grasshopper, who sung 

His evening song beneath his feet, conversed. 

Suns, moons, and stars, and clouds his sisters were ; 

Rocks, mountains, meteors, seas, and winds, and storms 

His brothers — younger brothers, whom he scarce 

As equals deemed. 

3. As some fierce comet of tremendous size, 

To which the stars did reverence as it passed : 

So he through learning and through fancy took 

His flight sublime ; and on the loftiest top 

Of fame' ; s dread mountain sat ; not soiled, and worn, 

As if he from the earth had labored up ; 

But as some bird of heavenly plumage fair, 

He looked, which down from higher regions came, 

And perched it there to see what lay beneath. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 193 

4. Great man ! the nations gazed and wondered much, 
And praised : and many called his evil good. 
Wits wrote in favor of his wickedness : 
And kings to do him honor took delight. 
Thus full of titles, flattery, honor, fame ; 
Beyond desire, beyond ambition full, — 
He died — he died of what % Of wretchedness. 
Drank every cup of joy, heard every trump 
Of fame ; drank early, deeply drank ; drank draughts 
That common millions might have quenched — then died 
Of thirst, because there was no more to drink. 



LESSON LXXIII. 

JOHN ADAMS AND THE DECLARATION. 



1. Sir, the declaration will inspire the people with increased 
courage. Instead of a long and bloody war for restoration 
of privileges, for redress of grievances, for chartered immu- 
nities, held under a British king, set before them the glori- 
ous object of entire independence, and it will breathe into them 
anew the breath of life. 

2. Read this declaration at the head of the army ; every 
sword will be drawn from its scabbard, and the solemn vow ut- 
tered, to maintain it or to perish on the bed of honor. Pub- 
lish it from the pulpit ; religion will approve it, and the love 
of religious liberty will cling around it, resolved to stand with 
it, or fall with it. Send it to the public halls ; proclaim it 
there ; let them hear it, who heard the first roar of the enemy's 
cannon ; let them see it, who saw their brothers and their sons 
fall on the field of Bunker Hill, and in the streets of Lexington 
and Concord, — and the very walls will cry out in its support. 

I 13 



194 ELOCUTION AXD ORATORY. 

3. Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs ; but I see 
clearly through this day's business. You and I indeed may rue 
it. We may not live to see the time, when this declara- 
tion shall be made good. We may die ; die colonists ; die 
slaves ; die, it may be, ignominiously, and on the scaffold. Be 
it so. If it shall be the pleasure of Heaven, that my country 
shall require the poor offering of m}- life, the victim shall be 
ready at the appointed hour of sacrifice, come when that hour 
may. 

4. But, whatever may be our fate, be assured that this dec- 
laration will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may cost 
blood ; but it will stand, and it will richly compensate for both. 
Through the thick gloom of the present, I see the brightness of 
the future as the sun in heaven. We shall make this a glori- 
ous, an immortal day. When we are in our graves, our chil- 
dren will honor it. They will celebrate it with thanksgiving, 
with festivity, with bonfires, and illuminations. On its annual 
return, they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears, not of sub- 
jection and slavery, not of agony and distress, but of exulta- 
tion, of gratitude, and of joy. 

5. Sir, before God, I believe the hour is come. My judg- 
ment approves this measure, and my whole heart is in it. All 
that I am, all that I have, and all that I hope for in this life, 
I am now ready here to stake upon it : and I leave off as I be- 
gan ; sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I am for the 
declaration : it is my living sentiment ; and, by the blessing 
of God, it shall be my dying sentiment, — Independence now, 
and Independence forever ! 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 195 

LESSON LXXIV. 

DREAM OF DARKNESS. 



1. I had a dream, which was not all a dream. 
The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars 
Did wander, darkling, in the eternal space, 
Eayless, and pathless, and the icy earth 

Swung blind, and blackening, in the moonless air ; 

Morn came, and went — and came, and brought no day ; 

And men forgot their passions, in the dread 

Of this their desolation ; and all hearts 

Were chilled into a selfish prayer for light : 

And they did live by watch-fires and the thrones, 

The palaces of crowned kings — the huts, 

The habitations of all things which dwell, 

Were burnt for beacons ; cities were consumed, 

And men were gathered round their blazing homes, 

To look once more into each other's face : 

Happy were those who dwelt within the eye 

Of the volcanoes and their mountain torch. 

2. A fearful hope was all the world contained : 
Forests were set on fire — but, hour by hour, 
They fell and faded — and the crackling trunks 
Extinguished with a crash — and all was black. 
The brows of men, by the despairing light, 
Wore an unearthly aspect, as, by fits, 

The flashes fell upon them. Some lay down, 
And hid their eyes, and wept ; and some did rest 
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled ; 
And others hurried to and fro, and fed 
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up, 
With mad disquietude, on the dn]l sky, 



196 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

The pall of a past world ; and then again, 

With curses, cast them down upon the dust, 

And gnashed their teeth, and howled. The wild birds shrieked, 

And terrified, did flutter on the ground, 

And flap their useless wings : the wildest brutes 

Came tame, and tremulous ; and vipers crawled 

And twined themselves among the multitude, 

Hissing, but stingless — they were slain for food. 

3. And War, which for a moment was no more, 
Did glut himself again ; a meal was bought 
With blood, and each sat sullenly apart, 
Gorging himself in. gloom : no love was left ; 

All earth was but one thought — and that was death, 
Immediate and inglorious ; and men 
Died ; and their bones were tombless as their flesh : 
The meager by the meager were devoured ; 
Even dogs assailed their masters — all save one, 
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept 
The birds, and beasts, and famished men, at bay, 
Till hunger clung them, or the drooping dead 
Lured their lank jaws ; himself sought out no foo> 
But, with a piteous, and perpetual moan, 
And a quick, desolate cry, licking the hand 
Which answered not with a caress — he died. 

4. The crowd was famished by degrees ; but two 
Of an enormous city did survive, 

And they were enemies ; they met beside 

The dying embers of an altar-place, 

Where had been heaped a mass of holy things, 

For an unholy usage ; they raked up 

And, shivering, scraped, with their cold, skeleton hands, 

The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath 

Blew for a little life, and made a flame, 



RHETORIC AL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 197 

Which was a mockery ; then they lifted 
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld 
Each other's aspects — saw, and shriek'd, and died — ■ 
Even of their mutual hideousness they died, 
Unknowing who he was, upon whose brow 
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void ; 
The populous and the powerful was a lump, 
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless ; 
A lump of death, a chaos of hard clay. 

5. The rivers, lakes, and ocean, all stood still, 
And nothing stirred within their silent depths ; 
Ships, sailorless, lay rotting on the sea, 
And their masts fell down piecemeal ; as they dropped 
They slept on the abyss, without a surge : 
The waves were dead ; the tides were in their grave ; 
The moon, their mistress, had expired before ; 
The winds were withered in the stagnant air, 
And the clouds perished ; Darkness had no need 
Of aid from them — She was the universe. 



LESSON LXXV. 

SPEECH IN DEFENSE OF ORR. 



1. "Alas! nor wife, nor children more shall he behold, nor 
friends, nor sacred home ! " No seraph mercy unbars his dun- 
geon and leads him forth to light and life ; but the minister of 
death hurries him to the scene of suffering and of shame ; where, 
unmoved by the hostile array of artillery and armed men col- 
lected together, to secure, or to insult, or to disturb him, he dies 



198 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

with a solemn declaration of his innocence, and utters his last 
breath in a prayer for the liberty of his country. 

2. Let me now ask you, if any of you had addressed the 
public ear upon so foul and monstrous a subject, in what lan- 
guage would you have conveyed the feelings of horror and in- 
dignation 1 Would you have stooped to the meanness of qual- 
ified complaint % Would you have been mean enough But 

I entreat your forgiveness, I do not think meanly of you ; had 
I thought so meanly of you, I could not suffer my mind to 
commune with you as it has done. 

3. Had I thought you that base and vile instrument, attuned 
by hope and by fear into discord and falsehood, from whose 
vulgar string no groan of suffering could vibrate, no voice of 
integrity or honor could speak, let me honestly tell you, 1 should 
have scorned to string my hand across it ; I should have left it 
to a fitter minstrel. If I do not, therefore, grossly err in my 
opinion of you, I could use no language upon such a subject as 
this, that must not lag behind the rapidity of your feelings, and 
that would not disgrace those feelings if it attempted to describe 
them. 

4. Upright and honest jurors, find a civil and obliging verdict 
against the printer ! And when you have done so, march through 
the ranks of your fellow-citizens to your own homes, and bear 
their look as you pass along ; retire to the bosom of your fam- 
ilies and your children, and, when you are presiding over the 
morality of the parental board, tell those infants, who are to be 
the future men of Ireland, the history of this day. Form their 
young minds by your precepts, and confirm those precepts by 
your own example ; teach them how discreetly allegiance may 
be perjured on the table, or loyalty be forsworn in the jury- 
box ; and when you have done so, tell them the story of Orr ; 
tell them of his captivity, of his children, of his crime, of his 
hopes, of his disappointments, of his courage, and of his death; 
and when you find your little hearers hanging upon your lips, 



• RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 199' 

when you see their eyes overflow with sympathy and sorrow, and 
their young hearts bursting with the pangs of anticipated orphan- 
age, tell them that you had the boldness and the justice to stig 
matize the monster who had dared to publish the transaction. 



LESSON LXXVI. 

VICTIM, BRIDE, AND MISER. 
ANONYMOUS. 

1. 1 saw her in her summer bower, and oh ! upon my sight, 
Methought there never beamed a form more beautiful and bright , 
So young, so fair, she seemed like one of those serial things, 
That dwell but in the poet's high and wild imaginings ; 
Or, like one of those forms we meet in dreams, from which we 

wake and weep, 
That earth has no creations, like the figments of our sleep. 

2. Her father loved he not his child, above all earthly things ? 

As traders love the merchandize from which their profit springs ; 
Old age came by, with tottering step, and then for sordid gold, 
With which the dotard urged his suit, the maiden's peace was sold; 
And thus, (for oh ! her sire's stern heart was steeled against her 

prayer,) 
The hand he ne'er had gained from love, he won from her despair. 

3. I saw them through the church-yard pass, and such a nuptial train, 
I would not, for the wealth of worlds, should greet my sight again ; 
The bride-maids, each as beautiful, as Eve in Eden's bowers, 
Shed bitter tears upon the path they should have strown with 

flowers ;. 
"Who had not thought that white-robed band the funeral array 
Of one an early doom had called, from life's gay scene away ? 

4. The priest beheld the bridal pair before the altar stand, 

And sighed as he drew forth his book, with slow, reluctant hand ; 
He saw the bride's flower-wreathed hair, he marked her stream- 
ing eyes, 
And deemed it less a christian rite, than a pagan sacrifice ; 



200 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

And when he called on Abraham's God to bless the wedded pair, 
It seemed a very mockery to breathe so vain a prayer. 

6. I saw the palsied bridegroom, too, in youth's gay ensign drest, 
A shroud were fitter gai'ment far for him than bridal vest ; 
I marked him, when the ring was claimed, 'twas hard to lose his 

hold, 
He held it with a miser's clutch — it was his darling gold. 
His shriveled hand was wet with tears, she shed, alas! in vain 
And trembled like an autumn leaf beneath the beating rain. 

6. I've seen her since that fatal morn — her golden fetters rest, 
As e'en the weight of incubus upon her aching breast ; 
And when the victor, (death,) shall come, to deal the welcome 

blow, 
He will not find one rose to swell the wreath that decks his brow, 
For oh! her cheek is blanched with grief, that time may not as- 
suage ; 
Thus early beauty sheds her bloom on the wintry breast of age. 



LESSON LXXVII. 

THE WILDERNESS OF MIND. 
OSBOENB. 

1. There is a wilderness more dark, 

Than groves of fir on Huron's shore ; 
And in that cheerless region, hark ! 

How serpents hiss! how monsters roar 

2. 'Tis not among the untrodden isles, 

Of vast Superior's stormy lake, 
Where social comfort never smiles, 

Nor sunbeams pierce the tangled brake : 

3. Nor is it in the deepest shade, 

Of India's tiger-haunted wood ; 
Nor western forests, unsurveyed, 

Where crouching panthers lurk for blood 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 201 

'Tis in the dark, uncultured soul, 

By education unrefined, 
Where hissing malice, vices foul, 
And all the hateful passions prowl — 

The frightful Wilderness of Mind ! 



LESSON LXXVUI. 

THE FAMINE IN IRELAND. 



1. There lies upon the other side of the wide Atlantic a 
beautiful island, famous in story and in song. It has been 
prolific in statesmen, warriors, and poets. It has given to 
the world more than its share of genius and of greatness. Its 
brave and generous sons have fought successfully in all battles 
but its own. In wit. and humor it has no equal ; while its harp, 
like its history, moves to tears by its sweet but melancholy 
pathos. 

2. In this fair region God has seen fit to send the most ter- 
rible of all those fearful ministers who fulfill his inscrutable de- 
crees. The earth has failed to give her increase ; the common 
mother has forgotten her offspring, and her breast no longer af- 
fords them their accustomed nourishment. Famine, gaunt and 
ghastly famine, has seized a nation with its strangling grasp ; 
and unhappy Ireland, in the sad woes of the present, forgets, 
for a moment, the gloomy history of the past. 

3. In battle, in the fullness of his pride and strength, little 
recks the soldier whether the hissing bullet sing his sudden re- 
quiem, or the cords of life are severed by the sharp steel. But 
he who dies of hunger, wrestles alone, day after day, with his 
grim and unrelenting enemy. He has no friends to cheer him 
in the terrible conflict \ for if he had friends, how could he die 

I* 



202 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

of hunger 1 He has not the hot blood of the soldier to main- 
tain him : for his foe, vampire-like, has exhausted his veins. 

4. Who will hesitate to give his mite, to avert such" awful 
results ? Give, then, generously and freely. Recollect, that 
in so doing, you are exercising one of the most godlike qualities 
of your nature, and, at the same time, enjoying one of the 
greatest luxuries of life. We ought to thank our Maker that 
he has permitted us to exercise equally with himself, that no- 
blest of even the Divine attributes, benevolence. 

5. Go home and look at your families, smiling in rosy health, 
and then think of the pale, famine-pinched cheeks of the poor 
children of Ireland ; and you will give according to your store, 
even as a bountiful Providence has given to you — not grudg- 
ingly, but with an open hand ; for the quality of benevolence, 
like that of mercy, 

"Is not strained: 
It droppeth like the gentle rain from heaven, 
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed; 
It blesses him that gives, and him that takes." 



LESSON LXXIX. 

WOODMAN SPARE THAT TREE. 



GEOEGE P. MORRIS. 



1. Woodman spare that tree! 
Touch not a single bough, 
In youth it sheltered me, 
And I'll protect it now. 
It was my father's hand 
That placed it near his cot ; 
Then, woodman, let it stand, 
Thy ax shall harm it not. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 208 

2. That old familiar tree, 
Whose glory and renown, 
Are spread o'er land and sea, 
And would'st thou hack it down ? 
Woodman, forbear thy stroke ! 
Cut not its earth-bound ties, 

Oh, spare the aged oak, 
Now towering to the skies ! 

3. When but an idle boy, 

I sought its grateful shade, 
In all their gushing joy 
There, too, my sisters played ; 
My mother kissed me here — ' 
My father pressed my hand, — 
Forgive this foolish tear, 
But let the old oak stand. 

4. My heart strings round thee cling, 
Close as thy bark, old friend ! 
Here shall the wild bird sing, 
And still thy branches bend ; 

Old tree the storm shall brave, 
And, woodman, leave the spot ! 
While I've a pious hand to save, 
Thy ax shall harm thee not ! 



LESSON LXXX. 

EMPLOYMENT OF INDIANS IN CIVILIZED WARFARE. 

CHATHAM. 

1. 1 am astonished ! — shocked! to hear such principles con- 
fessed — to hear them avowed in this house, or in this country; 
principles equally unconstitutional, inhuman, and unchristian. 



204 ' ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

My lords, I did not intend to have encroached again upon your 
attention ; but I cannot repress my indignation. I feel myself 
impelled by every duty. 

2. My lords, we are called upon as members of this house, 
as men, as christian men, to protest against such notions stand- 
ing near the throne, polluting the ear of majesty. " That God 
and nature put into our hands ! " — 1 know not what ideas that 
lord may entertain of God and nature ; but I know that such 
abominable principles are equally abhorrent to religion and hu- 
manity. What ! to attribute the sacred sanction of God and 
nature to the massacre of the Indian scalping-knife — to the 
cannibal savage, torturing, murdering, roasting, and eating, lit- 
erally, my lords, eating the mangled victims of his barbarous 
battles ! Such horrible notions shock every precept of reli- 
gion, divine or natural, every generous feeling of humanity, and 
every sentiment of honor. 

3. These abominable principles, and this more abominable 
avowal of them, demand the most decisive indignation. I call 
upon that right reverend bench, those holy ministers of the gos- 
pel and pious pastors of our church ; I conjure them to join in the 
holy work, and vindicate the religion of their God. I appeal to 
the wisdom and the law of this learned bench, to defend and 
support the justice of their country. I call upon the bishops, 
to interpose the unsullied sanctity of their lawn ; upon the 
learned judges, to interpose the purity of their ermine, to save 
us from this pollution. I call upon the honor of your lord- 
ships, to reverence the dignity of your ancestors, and maintain 
your own. 

4. I call upon the spirit and humanity of my country, to 
vindicate the national character. 1 invoke the genius of the con- 
stitution. From the tapestry that adorns these walls, the im- 
mortal ancestors of this noble lord frown with indignation at the 
disgrace of his country. In vain he led your victorious fleets 
against the boasted armada of Spain ; in vain he defended and 



KHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 205 

established the honor, the liberties, the religion, the protestant 
religion of his country, against the arbitrary cruelties of popery 
and the inquisition, if these more than popish cruelties and in- 
quisitorial practices are let loose among us. To turn forth into 
our settlements, among our ancient connections, friends, and 
relations, the merciless cannibal, thirsting for the blood of man, 
woman, and child ! to send forth the infidel savage — against 
whom ? against your protestant brethren ; to lay waste their 
country, to desolate their dwellings, and extirpate their race and 
name, with these horrible hell-hounds of savage war ! — hell- 
hounds, I say, of savage war. 



LESSON LXXXI. 

CASABIANCA. 

SEES. TTBMATTO, 

Young Casablanca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to tbe Admiral of the Ori- 
ent, remained at his post in the battle of the Nile, after the ship had taken fire, and 
all the guns had been abandoned, and perished in the explosion of the vessel, whoa 
the flames had reached the powder. 

1. The boy stood on the burning deck, 

Whence all but him had fled ; 
The flame that lit the battle's wreck, 
Shone round him o'er the dead. 

2. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 

As born to rule the storm j 
A creature of heroic blood, 

A proud, though child-like form. 

3. The flames rolled on, he would not go 

Without his father's word ; 
That father faint in death below, " 
His voice no longer heard. 



206 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

4. He called aloud — " Say, father, say, 

If yet my task is done % " 
He knew not that the chieftain lay 
• Unconscious of his son. 

5. " Speak, father ! " once again he cried, 

" If I may yet be gone ! 
And" — but the booming shots replied, 
And fast the flames rolled on. 

6. Upon his brow he felt their breath, 

And in his waving hair, 
And looked from that lone post of death, 
In still, yet brave despair : 

7. And shouted but once more aloud, 

" My father ! must I stay % " 
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, 
The wreathing fires made way. 

8. They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, 

They caught the flag on high, 
And streamed above the gallant child, 
Like banners in the sky. 

9. There came a burst of thunder sound — 

The boy — oh ! where was he % 
Ask of the winds that far around 
With fragments strewed the sea. 

10. With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, 
That well had borne their part — 
But the noblest thing which perished there, 
Was that young faithful heart ! 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 207 

LESSON LXXXII. 

APPEAL TO THE JURY AGAINST BLAKE. 



1. Oh, gentlemen, am I this day only the counsel of my cli- 
ent 1 No, no ; I am the advocate of humanity — of yourselves 
— your homes — your wives — your families— your little chil- 
dren. I am glad that this case exhibits such atrocity; un- 
marked as it is by any mitigatory feature, it may stop the 
frightful advance of this calamity ; it will be met now, and 
marked with vengeance. If it be not, farewell to the virtues of 
your country ; farewell to all confidence between man and 
man ; farewell to that unsuspicious and reciprocal tenderness, 
without which marriage is but a consecrated curse. If oaths 
are to be violated, laws disregarded, friendship betrayed, hu- 
manity trampled, national and individual honor stained, and if 
a jury of fathers and of husbands will give such miscreancy a 
passport to their homes, and wives, and daughters — farewell to 
all that yet remains of Ireland ! 

2. But I will not cast such a doubt upon the character of my 
country. Against the sneer of the foe, and the skepticism of 
the foreigner, I will still point to the domestic virtues, that no 
perfidy could barter, and no bribery can purchase, that with a 
Eoman usage, at once embellish and consecrate households, giv- 
ing to the society of the hearth all the purity of the altar ; that 
lingering alike in the palace and the cottage, are still to be 
found scattered over this land — the relic of what she was — 
the source perhaps of what she may be — the lone, the stately, 
and magnificent memorials, that rearing their majesty amid 
surrounding ruins, serve at once as the landmarks of the de- 
parted glory, and the models by which the future may be 
erected. 

8. Preserve those virtues with a vestal fidelity ; mark this 



208 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

day, by your verdict, your horror of their profanation ; and 
believe me, when the hand which records that verdict shall 
be dust, and the tongue that asks it, traceless in the grave, 
many a happy home will bless its consequences, and many a 
mother teach her little child to hate the impious treason of 
adultery. 



LESSON LXXXIII. 

THE DYING CHRISTIAN. 



1. Vital spark of heavenly flame ! 
Quit, oh, quit this mortal frame ! 
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying; 
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying ! 
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into life. 

2. Hark ! they whisper : angels say, 
Sister spirit, come away. 

What is this absorbs me quite, 
Steals my senses, shuts my sight ; 
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath? 
Tell me, my soul, can this be death ? 

3. The world recedes, it disappears ; 
Heaven opens on my eyes : my ears 

With sounds seraphic ring : 
Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly ! 
O grave ! where is thy victory % 

O death ! where is thy sting 1 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 209 

LESSON LXXXIV. 

THE ADVANTAGES OF EDUCATION. 



1. No doubt you have all personally considered — no doubt 
you have all personally experienced, that of all the blessings 
which it has pleased Providence to allow us to cultivate, there 
is not one which breathes a purer fragrance, or bears a heaven- 
lier aspect, than education. It is a companion which no mis- 
fortunes can depress, no clime destroy, no enemy alienate, no 
despotism enslave : at home a friend, abroad an introduction, 
in solitude a solace, in society an ornament : it chastens vice, 
it guides virtue, it gives at once a grace and government to 
genius. 

2. Without it, what is man'? A splendid slave ! a reason- 
ing savage, vacillating between the dignity of an intelligence 
derived from God, and the degradation of passions participated 
with brutes ; and in the accident of their alternate ascendency 
shuddering at the terrors of an hereafter, or embracing the 
horrid hope of annihilation. What is this wondrous world of 
his residence? 

" A mighty maze, and all without a plan ; " 

a dark and desolate and dreary cavern, without wealth, or or- 
nament or order. But light up within it the torch of knowl- 
edge, and how wondrous the transition ! The seasons change, 
the atmosphere breathes, the landscape lives, earth unfolds its 
fruits, ocean rolls in its magnificence, the heavens display 
their constellated canopy, and the grand animated spectacle of 
nature rises revealed before him, its varieties regulated, and its 
mysteries resolved ! 

3. The phenomena which bewilder, the prejudices which cte 
base, the superstitions which enslave, vanish before education. 
Like the holy symbol which blazed upon the cloud before the 

14 



210 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

hesitating Constantine, if man follow but its precepts, purely, it 
will not only lead him to the victories of this world, but open 
the very portals of Omnipotence for his admission. Cast your 
eye over the monumental map of ancient grandeur, once stud- 
ded with the stars of empire and the splendors of philosophy. 
4. What erected the little state of Athens into a powerful 
commonwealth, placing in her hand the scepter of legislation, 
and wreathing round her brow the imperishable chaplet of lit- 
erary fame % what extended Rome, the haunt of banditti, into 
universal empire % what animated Sparta with that high, un- 
bending, adamantine courage, which conquered nature herself, 
and has fixed her in the sight of future ages, a model of public 
virtue, and a proverb of national independence % What but 
those wise public institutions which strengthened their minds 
with early application, informed their infancy with the princi- 
ples of action, and sent them into the world, too vigilant to be 
deceived by its calms, and too vigorous to be shaken by its 
whirlwinds ? 



LESSON LXXXV. 

LOOK ALOFT. 
J. LATTBENCE, JB. 

1. In the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale 
Are around and above, if thy footing should fail, 

If thine eye should grow dim, and thy caution depart, 
" Look aloft ! " and be firm, and be fearless of heart. 

2. If the friend who embraced in prosperity's glow, 
With a smile for each joy and a tear for each woe, 
Should betray thee when sorrows like clouds are arrayed 
" Look aioft ! " to the friendship which never shall fade. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AKD FOETICAL. 211 

3. Should the visions which hope spreads in light to thine eye, 
Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly, 

Then turn, and through tears of repentant regret, 
" Look aloft ! " to the sun that is never to set. 

4. Should they who are dearest, the son of thy heart, 
The wife of thy bosom, in sorrow depart, 

" Look aloft " from the darkness and dust of the tomb, 
To that soil where affection is ever in bloom. 



And oh ! when death comes in his terrors, to cast 
His fears on the future, his pall on the past, 
In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart, 
And a smile in thine eye, "look aloft" and depart. 



LESSON LXXXVL 



THE GOOD WIFE. 



GEORGE -VT. BTTEXAP. 



1. The good wife ! How much of this world's happiness 
and prosperity, is contained in the compass of these two short 
words ! Her influence is immense. The power of a wife for 
good, or for evil, is altogether irresistible. Home must be the 
seat of happiness, or it must be forever unknown. 

2. A good wife is, to a man, wisdom, and courage, and 
strength, and hope, and endurance. A bad one is confusion, 
weakness, discomfiture, despair. No condition is hopeless, 
when the wife possesses firmness, decision, energy, economy. 
There is no outward prosperity which can counteract indolence, 
folly, and extravagance at home. No spirit can long resist bad 
domestic influences. 

3. Man is strong ; but his heart is not adamant. He de- 
lights in enterprise and action ; but, to sustain him, he needs a 
tranquil mind, and a whole heart. He expends his whole 



£12 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

moral force, in the conflicts of the world. His feelings are 
daily lacerated, to the utmost point of endurance, by perpetual 
collision, irritation, and disappointment. 

4. To recover his equanimity and composure, home must be 
to him a place of repose, of peace, of cheerfulness, of comfort ; 
and his soul renews its strength, and again goes forth, with fresh 
vigor, to encounter the labors and troubles of the world. But 
if at home he finds no rest, and there is met by a bad temper, 
sullenness, or gloom ; or is assailed by discontent, complaint, 
and reproaches, the heart breaks, the spirits are crushed, hope 
vanishes, and the man sinks into total despair. 

5. Let woman know, then, that she ministers at the very 
fountain of life and happiness. It is her hand that lades out, 
with overflowing cup, its soul-refreshing waters, or casts in the 
branch of bitterness, which makes them poison and death. Her 
ardent spirit breathes the breath of life into all enterprise. Her 
patience and constancy are mainly instrumental, in carrying 
forward, to completion, the best human designs. Her more 
delicate moral sensibility is the unseen power which is ever at 
work to purify and refine society. And the nearest glimpse 
of heaven that mortals ever get on earth, is that domestic circle, 
which her hands have trained to intelligence, virtue, and love, 
which her gentle influence pervades, and of which her radiant 
presence is the center and the sun. 



LESSON LXXXVH. 

ENDEARING THOUGHTS. 
ANONYMOUS. 

1. I would be with thee — near thee — ever near thee, 
Watching thee ever as the angels are ; 
Still seeking with my spirit's power to cheer thee, 
And thou to see me as some brilliant star, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 213 

Knowing me not, but oftentimes perceiving 
That when thou gazest I still brighter grow, 

Beaming and trembling, like some bosom heaving 
With all it knows, yet would not have thee kno*. . 

2. I would be with thee — fond yet silent ever, 

Nor break the spell on which my soul is bound ; 
Mirrored within thee, as within a river — ■ 

A flower within thy breast, and thou the ground ! 
That when I died and unto earth returned, 

Our nature never more might parted be ; 
Within thy being all mine own inurned, 

Life, bloom, and beauty, all absorbed in thee ! 



LESSON LXXXV1H. 

THE LOVE OF HOME. 

WEBSTEB. 

1. It is only shallow-minded pretenders who either make 
distinguished origin a matter of personal merit, or obscure or- 
igin a matter of personal reproach. Taunt and scoffing at the 
humble condition of early life affect nobody in America but those 
who are foolish enough to indulge in them, and they are gen- 
erally sufficiently punished by public rebuke. A man who is 
not ashamed of himself need not be ashamed of his early con- 
dition. 

2. It did not happen to me to be bom in a log-cabin ; but 
my elder brothers and sisters were born in a log-cabin, raised 
among the snow-drifts of New Hampshire, at a period so early, 
that when the smoke first rose from its rude chimney, and 
curled over the frozen hills, there was no similar evidence of a 
white man's habitation between it and the settlements on the 
rivers of Canada. 



214 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

3. Its remains still exist ; I make it an annual visit. I carry 
my children to it, to teach them the hardships endured by the 
generations which have gone before them. I love to dwell on 
the tender recollections, the kindred ties, the early affections, 
and the touching narratives and incidents which mingle with all 
I know of this primitive family abode. 

4. I weep to think that none of those who inhabited it are 
now among the living ; and if ever I am ashamed, of it, or if 
ever I fail in affectionate veneration for him who reared it, and 
defended it against savage violence and destruction, cherished 
all the domestic virtues beneath its roof, and, through the fire 
and blood of a seven years' revolutionary war, shrunk from no 
danger, no toil, no sacrifice, to serve his country, and to raise 
his children to a condition better than his own, may my name, 
and the name of my posterity, be blotted forever from the 
memory of mankind ! 



LESSON LXXXIX. 

SPEAK GENTLY. 

ANONYMOTO. 

1. Speak gently ; it is better far 

To rule by love than fear ; 
Speak gently, let not harsh words mar 
The good we might do here. 

2. Speak gently; love doth whisper low 

The vows that true hearts bind ; 
And gently friendship's accents flow, — 
Affection's voice is kind. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 215 

3. Speak gently to the little child, 

Its love be sure to gain ; 
Teach it in accents soft and mild, 
It may not long remain. 

4. Speak gently to the aged one, 

Grieve not the care-worn heart ; 
The sands of life are nearly ran — 
Let such in peace depart. 

5. Speak gently to the young, for they 

"Will have enough to bear ; 
Pass through this life as best they may, 
'Tis full of anxious care. 

6. Speak gently, kindly, to the poor, 

Let no harsh tones be heard ; 
They have enough they must endure, 
Without an unkind word. 

7. Speak gently to the erring ; know 

They may have toiled in vain ; 
Perchance unkindness made them so— 
Oh, win them back again. 

8. Speak gently ; He who gave his life 

To bend man's stubborn will, 
When elements were in fierce strife, 
Said to them, " Peace, be still ! " 

9. Speak gently ; 'tis a little thing 

Dropped in the heart's deep well ; 
The good, the joy, which it may bring. 
Eternity shall tell. 



216 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XC. 



THE OCEAN STORM. 
ANONTMOtrS. 



1. The storm is dreadful ! The heavens are one vast black 
cloud. The sheeted rain comes down in torrents. The fair 
earth is deluged. The sea, the broad-breasted sea, is tossed in 
terrible commotion, and the whole round world seems wrapt 
in eternal midnight. God reigns ! let all the earth stand in 
awe of him. Hark ! it is his voice, the rolling thunder ! Seel 
it is his eye, the fearful lightning ! The smit rock declares his 
power, and the monarch oak, rent from the adamantine hills. 

2. Alas ! on such a night, for the poor sea-boy. No friendly 
star lights his dread course. The wind-spirit howls. Wild 
raves the maddened ocean. The demons of the storm make 
merry of his fate. Look ! now tossed on mountain billows — 
now sunk to the lowest depths — " a thing of elemental sport" 
— the frail bark hurries to destruction. ! God, have mercy 
on the poor sea-boy ! Hark ! he shrieks — " help ! help ! " he 
cries, "help ! " — but ah ! no help is nigh. 

3. The monsters of the deep stand ready for their prey, and 
the victim in despair awaits his awful fate. The booming gun, 
and the shriek of human agony are vain. He who rules the 
storm, permits the destiny, and the doomed ship strikes on the 
fatal rock. 

4. " Oh, sailor-boy ! woe to thy dreams of delight ! 

In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss 
Oh, where is the picture that fancy touched bright — 
Thy father's fond pressure — thy mother's fond kiss ? 

5. Oh, sailor-boy ! sailor-boy ! never again 

Shall home, friends, or kindred thy wishes repay ; 
Beloved and lamented — down deep in the main, 
Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 217 

6. "On beds of green sea-flowers, thy limbs shall be laid ; 

Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow ; 
Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, 
And every part suit to thy mansion below. 

7. " Days, months, years, and ages, shall circle away, 

And still the vast waters above thee shall roll ; 
Earth loses thy pattern forever and aye — 

Oh, sailor-boy ! sailor-boy ! peace to thy soul." 



LESSON XCI. 

THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. 
WOODTVOBTH. 

1. How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, 

When fond recollection presents them to view ! 
The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild wood, 

And every loved spot which my infancy knew ; 
The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it, 

The bridge, and the rock wnere the cataract fell, 
The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, 

And even the rude bucket which hung in the well : 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 

The moss-covered bucket, that hung in the well. 

2, That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure ; 

For often, at noon, when returned from the field. 
I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, 

The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. 
How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing, 

And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell ; 
J 



218 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Then soon with the emblem of truth overflowing, 
And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well: 

The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 
The moss-covered bucket arose from the well. 

3. How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, 

As, poised on the curb, it inclines to my lips 
Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it, 

Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips. 
And now, far removed from the loved situation, 

The tear of regret will intrusively swell, 
As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, 

And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well : 
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 

The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in the well. 



LESSON XCII. 

WILLIAM H. SEWARD. 



1. Senator Seward is the Daniel O'Connell of America ; 
not in stature, for the the former is petit — the latter was pro- 
digious ; not in wit,, for the Yankee seldom perpetrates even a 
pun, while the Irishman was a " book in breeches," and every 
page gleaming with wit; not in eloquence, for Seward requires 
preparation, and speaks without much unction ; O'Connell 
spoke spontaneously, and every word was a throb ; not in 
faith, for the defender of the " higher law " is almost a Pro- 
testant, while the great agitator, as all know, was altogether a 
Catholic. 

2. Yet there is a resemblance, notwithstanding their dissim- 
ilarities. Seward stands at the tip-top of his profession as a 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 219 

lawyer, and so did O'Connell. Seward made a sensation in the 
American senate ; O'Connell did the same in the house of 
commons. Seward identifies himself with the party of free- 
dom. O'Connell hated slavery, and "oppression made that wise 
man mad." Seward is charged with dernagogism. O'Con- 
nell made himself all things to all men, that he might gain 
some. 

3. Seward has won the sympathies of the masses, and is the 
pet of the liberty-loving people of the north. O'Connell was 
the idol of Ireland, and his memory will ever live in the hearts 
of his countrymen. Seward is dreaded as much by the old 
hunkers of this country, as O'Connell was feared by the tyrant 
tories of Great Britain. Seward split the whig party ; so did 
O'Connell. Seward is a practical temperance man ; O'Con- 
nell was a pledged tee-totaler. Seward would like to be pres- 
ident of the United States; O'Connell desired to be king of 
Ireland. 

4. Seward is a great man among great men. He is not so 
volcanic as Benton — not so logical as Webster — not so elo- 
quent as Clay — not so brittle as Foote — not so jovial as Hale ; 
but he can write a better letter than any of them. A little 
from his pen will go a great distance, and keep a long time. 
His classic style, his earnest air, his truthful manner, his un- 
common sense, his perfect self-control, his thorough knowledge 
of the leading questions of the day, compel the attention and 
admiration of the hearer. He is never timid, never tame, 
never squeamish, never vulgar, never insulting. He is inde- 
pendent without egotism, modest without subserviency, digni- 
fied without pomposity, and sociable without affectation. 



220 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XCIIT. 

A SACRED MEMORY. 
TO LEGGETT. 

1. If yon bright stars which gem the night, 

Be each a blissful dwelling sphere, 
Where kindred spirits reunite, 

Whom death has torn asunder here, 
How sweet it were at once to die, 

And leave this blighted orb afar — 
Mix soul with soul, to cleave the sky, 

And soar away from star to star. 

2. But oh, how dark, how drear, how lone, 

Would seem the brightest world of bliss, 
If, wandering through each radiant one, 

We failed to find the loved of this ! 
If there no more the ties should twine, 

Which death's cold hand alone can sever, 
Ah ! then these stars in mockery shine, 

More hateful as they shine forever. 

3. It cannot be ! — each hope and fear 

That blights the eye or clouds the brow, 
Proclaims there is a happier sphere, 

Than this bleak world that holds us now ! 
There is a voice which sorrow hears, 

When heaviest weighs life's galling chain ; 
J Tis Heaven that whispers, " dry thy tears, 

The pure in heart shall meet again." 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 221 

LESSON XCIV. 



EULOGY ON WEBSTER. 
BUFTTS CHOATE, 



1. But it is time that the eulogy was spoken. My heart 
goes back into the coffin there with him, and I would pause. 
I went, it is a day or two since, alone, to see again the home 
which he so dearly loved, the chamber where he died, the 
grave in which they laid him, all habited as when 

" His look drew audience still as night, 
Or summer's noontide air," 

till the heavens be no more. 

2. Throughout that spacious and calm scene, all things to 
the eye showed at first unchanged. The books in the library, 
the portraits, the table at which he wrote, the scientific culture 
of the land, the course of agricultural occupation, the coming 
in of harvests, fruit of the seed his own hand had scattered, the 
animals and implements of husbandry, the trees planted by 
him in lines, in copses, in orchards, by thousands, the seat un- 
der the noble elm on which he used to sit to feel the south- 
west wind at evening, or hear the breathings of the sea, or the 
not less audible music of the starry heavens, all seemed at first 
unchanged. 

3. The sun of a bright day, from which, however, something 
of the fervors of midsummer were wanting, fell temperately on 
them all, filled the air on all sides with the utterances of life, and 
gleamed on the long line of ocean. Some of those whom on 
earth he loved best, were still there. The great mind still 
seamed to preside ; the great presence to be with you. You 
might expect to hear again the rich and playful tones of the 
voice of the old hospitality. Yet a moment more, and all the 
scene took on the aspect of one great monument, inscribed with 
his name, and sacred to his memory. 



222 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

4. And such it shall be in all the future of America ! The 
sensation of desolateness, and loneliness, and darkness with 
which you see it now, will pass away ; the sharp grief of love 
and friendship will become soothed ; men will repair thither, 
as they are wont to commemorate the great days of history ; 
the same glance shall take in, and the same emotions shall 
greet and bless the harbor of the Pilgrims and the tomb of 
Webster. 



LESSON XCV. 

REMEMBER ME. 

MOOKE. 

1. Go where glory waits thee, 
But while fame elates thee, 

Oh, still remember me. 
When the praise thou meetest 
To thine ear is sweetest, 

Oh, then remember me. 

2. Other arms may press thee, 
Dearer friends caress thee, — 
All the joys that bless thee 

Sweeter far may be ; 
But when friends are nearest, 
And when joys are dearest, 

Oh, then remember me. 

3. When at eve thou rovest, 
By the star thou lovest, 

Oh, then remember me ; 
Think, when home returning, 
Bright we've seen it burning; 

Oh, thus remember me. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 223 

4. Oft as summer closes, 
When thine eye reposes 
On its lingering roses, 

Once so loved by thee, 
Think of her who wove them, 
Her who made thee love them ; 

Oh, then remember me. 

5. When around thee, dying, 
Autumn leaves are lying, 

Oh, then remember me ; 
And, at night, when gazing 
On the gay hearth blazing, 

Oh, still remember me. 

5. Then, should music, stealing 
All the soul of feeling, 
To thy heart appealing, 

Draw one tear from thee ; 
Then let memory bring thee 
Strains I used to sing thee — 

Oh, then remember me. 



LESSON XCVL 

CIVIL AND RELIGIOUS LIBERTY. 

E. "SV\ BEECHEE. 

1. Now, gentlemen, civil and religious liberty is a thing that 
governments may declare and recognize, but which govern- 
ments never make, any more than governments make a man. 
God made a man, and he never made one without the hope of 
liberty in him ; and if there be a man on this earth that has 
not got that, then he aint made ! 



224 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

2. And because this is a part of God's " talents " let to us, 
and let on interest, and which we are bound, as receiving it 
from Him, to trade well upon, therefore it is that every gov- 
ernment and every nation that has citizens who are worthy to 
be called men, and are worthy to call their mothers "Mother" 
— therefore it is that every such nation is perpetually tending 
toward liberty — no matter under what oppressions — as a seed 
put under a rock, or under a board, or in the dark shadow of 
a wall, yet, so it has vitality, will attempt to grow, will seek 
the water, send its root down to it, and then seek out where 
light and heat may be found. So, put a man under what su- 
perincumbent oppression you please, there always will be reach- 
ing out a root that will have liberty — there always will be reach- 
ing out a stem for the light of God's precious civil and religious 
liberty ! 

3. But, gentlemen, it is an easy thing for us to speak about 
civil and religious liberty. It is easy for us who have it, to 
praise it. Oh, methinks we praise it, as I can imagine an old 
curmudgeon, to whom Providence has given gold, and who 
will not give it to the Hungarians — as I would give it, if I had 
it. And the first time I ever envied such a man was lately. 

4. But I can imagine him dressed in velvet, with plush on 
which to rest his foot, flushed with wine, and surrounded with 
luxurious appliances, and fat and glowing in his abundance, this 
old usurer take out his gold, and talk and talk over and over 
about the benefits of life, while the beggars are on the sidewalk 
by his door, and get neither a crumb from his table nor a mor- 
sel of charity. I ask, what is the use of money to such a crea- 
ture as that, except to damn him 1 So it is with every man 
who is talking, talking continually about civil and religious 
liberty. Now, I want to know what they do with civil and 
religious liberty. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL AND POETICAL. 225 

LESSON XCVII. 

CASSIUS AGAINST CAESAR. 



1. Well, honor is the subject of my story; 
I cannot tell what you, and other men, 
Think of this life ; but for my single self, 
I had as lief not be, as live to be 

In awe of such a thing as I myself. 

I was born free as Caesar ; so were you ; 

We have both fed as well ; and we can both 

Endure the winter's cold as well as he. 

For, once upon a raw and gusty day, 

The troubled Tiber, chafing with its shores, 

Caesar says to me, " Darest thou, Cassius, now 

Leap in with me, into this angry flood, 

And swim to yonder point ? " 

2. Upon the word, 
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, 

And bade him follow ; so, indeed, he did. 

The torrent roared, and we did buffet it ; 

With lusty sinews, throwing it aside, 

And stemming it, with hearts of controversy. 

But ere we could arrive the point proposed, 

Caesar cried, " Help me, Cassius, or I sink." 

T, as iEneas, our great ancestor, 

Did from the flames of Troy, upon his shoulder 

The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tiber, 

Did I the tired Caesar ; and this man 

Is now become a god ; and Cassius is 

A wretched creature, and must bend his body, 

If Csesar carelessly but nod on him. 

J* 15 



226 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

3. He had a fever when he was in Spain, 
And when the fit was on him, I did mark 
How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake; 
His coward lips did from their color fly ; 

And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world, 
Did lose its luster ; I did hear him groan, 
Aye, and that tongue of his, that bade the Eomans 
Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, 
" Alas ! " it cried, " Give me some drink, Titinius," 
As a sick girl. 

4. Ye gods ! it doth amaze me, 
A man of such a feeble temper, should 
So get the start of the majestic world, 
And bear the palm alone. 

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world, 
Like a Colossus, and we, petty men, 
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about, 
To find ourselves dishonorable graves. 
Men, at some time, are masters of their fates : 
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, 
But in ourselves, that we are underlings. 

5. Brutus, and Caesar ! What should be in that Caesar ! 
Why should that name be sounded more than yours ? 
Write them together : yours is as fair a name ; 
Sound them : it doth become the mouth as well ; 
Weigh them : it is as heavy ; conjure with 'em 
Brutus will start a spirit, as soon as Caesar. 

6. Now, in the name of all the gods at once, 
Upon what meats doth this our Caesar feed, 

That he hath grown so great % Age, thou art shamed J 
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods. 
When went there by an age, since the great flood, 
But it was famed with more than with one man ? 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 227 

When could they say, till now, that talked of Rome, 
That her wide walls encompassed but one man 1 
Oh ! you and I have heard our fathers say, 
There was a Brutus once, that would have brooked 
The infernal devil to keep his state in Rome, 
As easily as a king. 



LESSON XCVIH. 

HORACE GREELEY. 



1. Notwithstanding his wayward whims — his eccentric 
manners — his love of the intangible ideal — his faith in Fourier- 
ism — his responses to spirit-rappers — his man-worship when 
Henry Clay was the human god — he is still the model editor, 
and the leader of the " press gang ; " and the columns of The 
Tribune afford a panoramic view of the American world as it 
is. Greeley is a pen pugilist, (but never a bully,) and woe be- 
tide the unlucky wight that begins the assault. Is he a clergy- 
man 1 then duodecimos, octavos, and quartos of ecclesiastical 
history will be hurled at his head, and he cannot dodge them, 
though he makes a coward's castle of the pulpit. 

2. Is he a political man 1 then he must be right, or he will 
be flagellated, if he ventures to measure lances with one who is 
a walking register, and familiar with every important political 
event that has transpired for the last twenty years. He has 
more than a usual knowledge of the past. His writings em- 
brace every variety of style — classic beauty, exquisite poetry, 
graphic description, vapid commonplace, the full sun-blaze of 
originality, the moon in the mist, and the ignis fatuus light of 
whimsical nonsense. 

3. It is but just, however, to say, that he rarely troubles his 



228 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

readers with verbiage or pedantry. He gives us his immedi- 
ate impressions of things, and his style depends somewhat upon 
the state of his health, and the leisure at his disposal. He does 
not stop to tack on syllables to make a sentence even, nor 
measure periods so that they will be as mathematically correct 
as the vibrations of a pendulum ; but he dashes on, heedless of 
consequences. His widely circulated journal contains good 
specimens of acute wit, critical reasoning, solid argument, bril- 
liant invective, profound philosophy, beautiful poetry, and mov- 
ing eloquence, mixed with the opposites of these. 

4. Mr. Greeley is entirely free from heartless bigotry or 
hypocritical obstinacy. He is benevolent in his disposition, 
affable and sociable in his manners, often speaks in public, and, 
owing to his fame as a writer, attracts considerable attention ; 
but he is pretty sure to disappoint his hearers, for he has not 
sufficient eloquence as an orator, to buoy up the reputation he 
has won as a writer. His manner is uncouth, his matter often 
dry, and his person by no means prepossessing. 

5. Here permit me to say, that his careless, slipshod, slov- 
enly way of dressing his person, has rendered him a man of 
mark and remark. His white hat and white coat have been 
immortalized, because they are ever worn and everlasting. If 
this whig prophet had more dignity and more dandyism, he 
would be less popular with the masses, but a great favorite 
with uppercrustdom. 



LESSON XCLX. 

TELL ON THE ALPS. 



1. Once more I breathe the mountain air; once more 
I tread my own free hills ! My lofty soul 
Throws all its fetters off; in its proud flight, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 229 

"Tis like the new-fleclged eaglet, whose strong wing 

Soars to the sun it long has gazed upon 

With eye undazzled. O! ye mighty race 

That stand like frowning giants, fixed to guard 

My own proud land ; why did ye not hurl down 

The thundering avalanche, when at your feet 

The base usurper stood ? A touch, a breath, 

Nay, even the breath of prayer, ere now, has brought 

Destruction on the hunter's head ; and yet 

The tyrant passed in safety. God of heaven ! 

Where slept thy thunderbolts 1 

2. O, liberty ! 

Thou choicest gift of Heaven, and wanting which 

Life is as nothing ; hast thou then forgot 

Thy native home 1 Must the feet of slaves 

Pollute this glorious scene ? It cannot be. 

Even as the smile of Heaven can pierce the depths 

Of these dark caves, and bid the wild flowers bloom 

In spots where man has never dared to tread ; 

So thy sweet influence still is seen amid 

These beetling cliffs. Some hearts still beat for thee, 

And bow alive to Heaven ; thy spirit lives, 

Aye, and shall live, when even the very name 

Of tyrant is forgot. 

3. Lo ! while I gaze 

Upon the mist that wreathes yon mountain's brow, 

The sunbeam touches it, and it becomes 

A. crown of glory on his hoary head ; 

! is not this a presage of the dawn 

Of freedom o'er the world 1 Hear me, then, bright 

And beaming Heaven ! while kneeling thus, I vow 

To live for freedom, or with her to die ! 



230 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

4. Oh ! with what pride I used 
To walk these hills, and look up to my God, 
And bless him that it was so. It was free — 
From end to end, from cliff to lake 'twas free — 
Free as our torrents are, that leap our rocks, 
And plow our valleys, without asking leave ; 
Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow, 
In very presence of the regal sun ! 

How happy was I in it then ! I loved 
Its very storms ! Yes, I have sat and eyed 
The thunder breaking from his cloud, and smiled 
To see him shake his lightnings o'er my head. 
And think I had no master save his own ! 

5. Ye know the jutting cliff, round which a track 
Up hither winds, whose base is but the brow 
To such another one, with scanty room 

For two abreast to pass 1 O'ertaken there 

By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along, 

And while gust followed gust more furiously, 

As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink, 

And I have thought of other lands, where storms 

Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just 

Have wished me there — the thought that mine was free, 

Has checked that wish, and I have raised my head, 

And cried in thralldom to that furious wind, 

Blow on ! this is the land of liberty ! 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 231 

LESSON C. 

FUGITIVES FROM JUSTICE. 



1. With such solemn convictions, no law, impious, infidel 
to God and humanity, shall have respect or observance at our 
hands. We desire no collision with it. We shall not rashly 
dash upon it. We shall not attempt a rescue, nor interrupt 
the officers, if they do not interrupt us. We prefer to labor 
peaceably for its early repeal, meanwhile saving from its mer- 
ciless jaws as many victims as we can. But in those provisions 
which respect aid to fugitives, may God do so to us, yea and 
more also, if we do not spurn it as we would any other man- 
date of Satan. 

2. If, in God's providence, fugitives ask bread or shelter, 
raiment or conveyance, at our hands, my own children shall 
lack bread before they ; my own flesh shall sting with cold ere 
they shall lack raiment. I will both shelter them, conceal 
them, or speed their flight ; and while under my shelter or 
under my convoy, they shall be to me as my own flesh and 
blood ; and whatever defense I would put forth for my own 
children, that shall these poor, despised, and persecuted crea- 
tures have in my house or upon the road. 

3. The man who shall betray a fellow creature to bondage, 
who shall obey this law to the peril of his soul, and to the loss 
of his manhood, were he brother, son, or father, shall never 
pollute my hand with the grasp of hideous friendship, or cast 
his swarthy shadow across my threshold ! For such service to 
those whose helplessness and poverty make them peculiarly 
God's children, I shall cheerfully take the pains and penalties 
of this bill. Bonds and fines shall be honors ; imprisonment 
and suffering will be passports to fame not long to linger. 



23$ ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON a 

THE GROVES GOd's FIRST TEMPLES. 



1. The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned 
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, 

And spread the roof above them — ere he framed 
The lofty vault, to gather, and roll back 
The sound of anthems — in the darkling wood, 
Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down, 
And offered, to the Mightiest, solemn thanks, 
And supplication. Eor his simple heart 
Might not resist the sacred influences, 
That, from the stilly twilight of the place, 
And from the gray old trunks, that, high in heaven, 
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound 
Of the invisible breath, that swayed, at once, 
All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed 
His spirit, with the thought of boundless power, 
And inaccessible majesty. 

2. Ah! why 

Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect 

God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore, 

Only among the crowd, and under roofs, 

That our frail hands have raised % Let me, at least, 

Here, in the shadow of this aged wood, 

Offer one hymn ; thrice happy, if it find 

Acceptance in his ear. 

3. Father, thy hand 
Hath reared these venerable columns ; thou 

Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down 

Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith rose 

All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 233 

Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, 
And shot toward heaven. The century-living crow, 
Whose birth was in their tops, grew old, and died, 
Among their branches ; till, at last, they stood, 
As now they stand, massy, and tall, and dark — 
Fit shrine for humble worshiper to hold 
Communion with his Maker. 

4. Here, are seen 
No traces of man's pomp, or pride ; no silks 
Rustle, no jewels shine, nor envious eyes 
Encounter ; no fantastic carvings show 

The boast of our vain race, to change the form 
Of thy fair works. But thou art here ; thou fill'st 
The solitude. Thou art in the soft winds, 
That run along the summits of these trees, 
In music ; thou art in the cooler breath, 
That, from the inmost darkness of the place, 
Comes scarcely felt ; the barky trunks, the ground, 
The fresh, moist ground, are all instinct with thee. 

5. My heart is awed within me, when I think 
Of the great miracle that still goes on, 

In silence round me ; the perpetual work 
Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed 
Forever. Written on thy works, I read 
The lesson of thy own eternity. 
Lo ! all grow old, and die : but see again, 
How, on the faltering footsteps of decay, 
Youth presses — ever gay and beautiful youth — 
In all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees 
Wave not less proudly, that their ancestors 
Moulder beneath them. 

6. Oh ! there is not lost 

One of earth's charms : upon her bosom yet, 



234 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

After the flight of untold centuries, 
The freshness of her far beginning lies, 
And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate 
Of his arch enemy, death ; yea, seats himself 
Upon the sepulchre, and blooms, and smiles, 
And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe, 
Makes his own nourishment. For he came forth 
From thine own bosom, and shall have no end. 

7. There have been holy men, who hid themselves 
Deep in the woody wilderness, and gave 

Their lives to thought, and prayer, till they outlived 
The generation born with them, nor seemed 
Less aged than the hoary trees and rocks 
Around them ; and there have been holy men, 
Who deemed it were not well to pass life thus. 
But let me often to these solitudes 
Retire, and, in thy presence, reassure 
My feeble virtue. Here its enemies, 
The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink, 
And tremble, and are still. 

8. O Gocl ! when thou 
Dost scare the world with tempests, set on fire 
The heavens with falling thunderbolts, or fill, 
With all the waters of the firmament, 

The swift, dark whirlwind, that uproots the woods, 
And drowns the villages ; when, at thy call, 
Uprises the great deep, and throws himself 
Upon the continent, and overwhelms 
Its cities ; who forgets not, at the sight 
Of these tremendous tokens of thy power, 
His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by ! 
Oh ! from the sterner aspects of thy face 
Spare me and mine ; nor let us need the wrath 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 235 

Of the mad, unchained elements, to teach 
Who rules them. Be it ours to meditate, 
In these calm shades, thy milder majesty, 
And to the beautiful order of thy works. 
Learn to conform the order of our lives. 



LESSON CH. 

ARCHIMEDES. 

WINTHBOP. 

1. Archimedes was born in the year 287 before the chris- 
tian era, in the island of Sicily, and city of Syracuse. Of his 
childhood and early education we know absolutely nothing, and 
nothing of his family, save that he is stated to have been one 
of the poor relations of King Hiero, who came to the throne 
when Archimedes was quite a young man, and of whose royal 
patronage he more than repaid whatever measure he may have 
enjoyed. There is no more characteristic anecdote of this great 
philosopher than that relating to his detection of a fraud in the 
composition of the royal crown. Nothing, certainly, could 
more vividly illustrate the ingenuity, the enthusiasm, and the 
complete concentration and abstraction of mind, with which he 
pursued whatever problem was proposed to him. 

2. King Hiero, or his son Gelon, it seems, had given out a 
certain amount of gold to be made into a crown, and the work- 
man to whom it had been intrusted had at last brought back a 
crown of corresponding weight. But a suspicion arose that it 
had been alloyed with silver, and Archimedes was applied to 
by the king, either to disprove or to verify the allegation. The 
great problem, of course, was to ascertain the precise bulk of 
the crown in its existing form ; for, gold being so much heavier 
than silver, it is obvious that if the weight had been in any de- 



230 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

gree made up by the substitution of silver, the bulk would be 
proportionately increased. Now, it happened that Archimedes 
went to take a bath while this problem was exercising his mind, 
and, on approaching the bath tub, he found it full to the very 
brim. It instantly occurred to him that a quantity of water 
of the same bulk with his own body must be displaced before 
his body could be immersed. 

3. Accordingly, he plunged in ; and while the process of dis- 
placement was going on, and the water was running out, the 
idea suggested itself to him, that by putting a lump of gold of 
the exact weight of the crown into a vessel full of water, and 
then measuring the water which was displaced by it, and by 
afterward putting the crown itself into the same vessel after it 
had again been filled, and then measuring the water which this, 
too, should have displaced, the difference in their respective 
bulks, however minute, would be at once detected, and the 
fraud exposed. " As soon as he had hit upon this method of 
detection," we are told, " he did not wait a moment, but jumped 
joyfully out of the bath, and, running naked toward his own 
house, called out with a loud voice, that he had found what he 
had sought. For, as he ran, he called out in Greek, " Eureka, 
Eureka!" 

4. No wonder that this veteran geometer, rushing through 
the thronged and splendid streets of Syracuse, naked as a pair 
of his own compasses, and making the welkin ring with his 
triumphant shouts — no wonder that he should have rendered 
the phrase, if not the guise, in which he announced his success, 
familiar to all the world, and that " Eureka, Eureka," should thus 
have become the proverbial ejaculation of successful invention 
and discovery in all ages, and in all languages, from that day 
to this ! The solution of this problem is supposed to have led 
the old philosopher not merely into this ecstatical exhibition 
of himself, but into that line of hydrostatical investigation and 
experiment which afterward secured him such lasting renown. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 237 

And thus the accidents of a defective crown and an overflowing 
bath-tub gave occasion to some of the most remarkable de- 
monstrations of ancient science. 



LESSON cm. 

PARRHASIUS AND THE CAPTIVE. 



"Parrha^'i/s, a painter of Athens, amongst those Olynthian captives Philip of 
Macedon brought home to sell, bought one very old man ; and when he had him at 
his house, put him to death with extreme torture and torment, the better, by his ex- 
ample, to express the pain and passions of his Prometheus, whom he was thea about 
to paint" — Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy. 

1. There stood an unsold captive in the mart, 
A gray-haired and majestical old man, 
Chained to a pillar. It was almost night, 
And the last seller from his place had gone, 
And not a sound was heard but of a dog 
Crunching beneath the stall a refuse bone, 
Or the dull echo from the pavement rung, 
As the faint captive changed his weary feet. 

2. 'Twas evening, and the half-descended sun 
Tipped with a golden fire the many domes 
Of Athens, and a yellow atmosphere 

Lay rich and dusky in the shaded street, 
Through which the captive gazed. 

3. The golden light into the painter's room 
Streamed richly, and the hidden colors stole 
From the dark pictures radiantly forth, 
And in the soft and dewy atmosphere, 
Like forms and landscapes, magical they lay. 
Parrhasius stood, gazing, forgetfully, 



238 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Upon his canvas. There Prometheus lay . 

Chained to the cold rocks of Mount Caucasus, 

The vulture at his vitals, and the links 

Of the lame Lemnian festering in his flesh ; 

And, as the painter's mind felt through the dim, 

Rapt mystery, and plucked the shadows forth 

With its far-reaching fancy, and with form 

And color clad them, his fine, earnest eye, 

Flashed with a passionate fire, and the quick curl 

Of his thin nostril, and his quivering lip 

"Were like the winged god's, breathing from his flight. 

4. " Bring me the captive now ! 

My hands feel skillful, and the shadows lift 
From my waked spirit airily and swift, 

And I could paint the bow 
Upon the bended heavens ; around me play 
Colors of such divinity to-day. 

5. "Ha! bind him on his back ! 

Look ! as Prometheus in my picture here ! 
Quick ! or he faints ! stand with the cordial near ! 

Now — bend him to the rack ! 
Press down the poisoned links into his flesh ! 
And tear agape that healing wound afresh ! 

6. " So, let him writhe ! How long 

Will he live thus ? Quick, my good pencil, now ! 
What a fine agony works upon his brow ! 

Ha ! gray-haired, and so strong ! 
How fearfully he stifles that short moan ! 
Gods ! if I could but paint a dying groan ! 

7. "'Pity' thee! Soldo! 

I pity the dumb victim at the altar, 
But does the rob'd priest for his pity falter ? 
I'd rack thee though I knew 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND. POETICAL. 23i> 

A thousand lives were perishing in thine — 
What were ten thousand to a fame like mine ? 

8. " Yet there's a deathless name ! 

A spirit that the smothering vault shall spurn, 
And like a steadfast planet mount and burn ; 

And though its crown of flame 
Consumed my brain to ashes as it shone, 
By all the fiery stars, I'd bind it on ! 

9. " Ay, though it bid me rifle 

My heart's last fount for its insatiate thirst- 
Though every life-strung nerve be maddened first ; 

Though it should bid me stifle 
The yearning in my throat for my sweet child, 
And taunt its mother till my brain went wild— 

10. " All— I would do it ail- 
Sooner than die, like a dull worm, to rot — > 
Thrust foully into earth to be forgot ! 

O heavens — but I appal 

Your heart, old man ! forgive ha ! on your lives 

Let him not faint ! — rack him till he revives ! 

11. "Vain — vain — give o'er. His eye 
Glazes apace. He does not feel you now ; 
Stand back ! I'll paint the death-dew on his brow ! 

God ! if he do not die 
But for one moment — one — till I eclipse 
Conception with the scorn of those calm lips ! 

12. " Shivering ! Hark ! he mutters 
Brokenly now — that was a difficult breath — 
Another? Wilt thou never come, oh, death ! 

Look ! how his temples flutter ! 
Is his heart still ? Aha ! lift up his head ! 
He shudders, gasps, Jove help him ! so, he's dead. 



240 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

13. How like a mounting devil in the heart 
Rules the unreigned ambition ! Let it once 
But play the monarch, and its haughty brow 
Glows with a beauty that bewilders thought, 
And unthrones peace forever. Putting on 
The very pomp of Lucifer, it turns 
The heart to ashes, and with not a spring 
Left in the bosom for the spirit's lip, 
We look upon our splendor and forget 
The thirst of which we perish ! 
O, if earth be all, and heaven nothing, 
What thrice-mocked fools we are ! 



LESSON CIV. 

CHARACTER OE PITT. 



1. The secretary stood alone ; modern degeneracy had not 
reached him. Original, and unaccommodating, the features of 
his character had the hardihood of antiquity. His august mind 
overawed majesty ; and one of his sovereigns thought royalty 
so impaired in his presence, that he conspired to remove him, 
in order to be relieved from his superiority. No state chi- 
canery, no narrow system of vicious politics, sank him to the 
vulgar level of the great ; but overbearing, persuasive, and im- 
practicable, his object was England, his ambition was fame. 
Without dividing, he destroyed party ; without corrupting, he 
made a venal age unanimous. 

2. France sank beneath him. With one hand, he smote the 
house of Bourbon, and wielded, with the other, the democracy 
of England. The sight of his mind was infinite; and his 
schemes were to affect, not England, and the present age only, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 241 

but Europe, and posterity. Wonderful were the means by 
which these schemes were accomplished; always seasonable, 
always adequate, the suggestions of an understanding animated 
by ardor, and enlightened by prophecy. 

3. The ordinary feelings which render life amiable and indo- 
lent were unknown to him. No domestic difficulty, no domes- 
tic weakness reached him ; but, aloof from the sordid occur- 
rences of life, and unsullied by its intercourse, he came, occa- 
sionally, into our system, to counsel and to decide. A charac- 
ter so exalted, so strenuous, so various, and so authoritative, 
astonished a corrupt age; and the treasury trembled at the 
name of Pitt, through all her classes of venality. Corruption 
imagined, indeed, that she had found defects in this statesman ; 
and talked much of the ruin of his victories ; but the history 
of his country, and the calamities of the enemy, refuted her. 

4. Nor were his political abilities his only talents : his elo- 
quence was an era in the senate ; peculiar and spontaneous, fa- 
miliarly expressing gigantic sentiments, and instinctive wisdom; 
not like the torrent of Demosthenes, or the splendid conflagra- 
tion of Tully, it resembled sometimes the thunder, and some- 
times the music of the spheres. He did not, like Murray, con- 
duct the understanding through the painful subtlety of argu- 
mentation, nor was he, like Townshend, forever on the rack of 
exertion ; but, rather, lightened upon the subject, and reached 
the point by flashings of the mind, which, like those of his eye, 
were felt, but could not be followed. 

5. Upon the whole, there was something in this man that 
could create, subvert, or reform ; an understanding, a spirit, 
and an eloquence, to summon mankind to society, or to break 
the bonds of slavery asunder, and to rule the wilderness of free 
minds with unbounded authority — something that could estab- 
lish or overwhelm empires, and strike a blow in the world, 
which should resound throughout the universe. 

K 16 



242 



ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON CV. 

THE QUALITY OF MERCY. 

6HAKSPEABE. 

1. The quality of mercy is not strained; 
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, 
Upon the place beneath : it is twice blessed ; 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes : 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown : 
His scepter shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
But mercy is above this sceptered sway ; 
It is enthroned in the heart of kings ; 
It is an attribute to God himself : 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's, 
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this, 
That in the course of justice none of us 
Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy, 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy. 



LESSON CVI. 

REPLY TO MR. CORRY. 



1. Has the gentleman done? Has he completely done? 
He was unparlimentary from the beginning to the end of his 
speech. There was scarce a word he uttered that was not a 
violation of the privileges of the house. But I did not call him 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 243 

to order — why 1 because the limited talents of some men ren- 
der it impossible for them to be severe without being unparlia- 
mentary. But before I sit down, I shall show him how to be 
severe and parliamentary at the same time. 

2. On any other occasion, I should think myself justifiable 
in treating with silent contempt anything which might fall from 
that honorable member ; but there are times, when the insig- 
nificance of the accuser is lost in the magnitude of the accusa- 
tion. I know the difficulty the honorable gentleman labored 
under when he attacked me, conscious that, on a comparative 
view of our characters, public and private, there is nothing he 
could say which would injure me. The public would not be- 
lieve the charge. I despise the falsehood. If such a charge 
were made by an honest man, I would answer it in the manner 
I shall do before I sit down. But I *hall first reply to it, when 
not made by an honest man. 

3. The right honorable gentleman has called me " an unim- 
peached traitor." I ask why not " traitor," unqualified by an 
epithet ? I will tell him, it was because he durst not. It was 
the act of a coward, who raises his arm to strike, but has not 
courage to give the blow. I will not call him villain, because 
it would be unparliamentary, and he is a privy counselor. I 
will not call him a fool, because he happens to be chancelor of 
the exchequer. But I say, he is one who has abused the priv- 
ilege of parliament, and freedom of debate, by uttering lan- 
guage, which, if spoken out of the house, I should answer only 
with a blow. I care not how high his situation, how low his 
character, how contemptible his speech ; whether a privy coun- 
selor or a parasite, my answer would be a blow. 

4. He has charged me with being connected with the rebels. 
The charge is utterly, totally, and meanly false. Does the 
honorable gentleman rely on the report of the house of lords 
for the foundation of his assertion ? If he does, I can prove to 



244 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

the committee, there was a physical impossibility of that re- 
port being true. But I scorn to answer any man for my con- 
duct, whether he be a political coxcomb, or whether he brought 
himself into power by a false glare of courage or not. 



LESSON CVII. 

THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER. 



1. Father of all, in every age, 

In every clime adored, 
By saint, by savage, and by sage, 
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ! 

2. Thou great first cause, least understood, 

Who all my sense confin'd, 
To know but this, that thou art good, 
And that myself am blind ; 

3. Yet gave me, in this dark estate, 

To see the good from ill ; 

And binding nature fast in fate, 

Left free the human will. 

4. What conscience dictates to be done, 

Or warns me not to do, 
This teach me more than hell to shun, 
That more than heaven pursue. 

5. What blessings thy free bounty gives, 

Let me not cast away ; 
For God is paid when man receives; 
To enjoy is to obey* 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 246 

6. Yet not to earth's contracted span 

Thy goodness let me bound, 
Or think thee Lord alone of man, 
When thousand worlds are round. 

7. Let not this weak, unknowing hand 

Presume thy bolts to throw ; 
And deal damnation round the land 
On each I judge thy foe. 

8. If I am right, thy grace impart, 

Still in the right to stay ; 
If I am wrong, oh teach my heart 
To find that better way ! 

9. Save me alike from foolish pride, 

Or impious discontent, 
At aught thy wisdom has denied, 
Or aught thy goodness lent. 

10. Teach me to feel another's woe ; 

To hide the fault I see : 

That mercy I to others show, 

That mercy show to me. 

11. Mean though I am, not wholly so, 

Since quicken'd by thy breath ; 
O lead me wheresoe'er I go, 

Through this day's life or death. 

12. This day, be bread and peace my lot : 

All else beneath the sun, 
Thou know'st if best bestowed or not, 
And let thy will be done. 

13. To thee, whose temple is all space, 

Whose altar, earth, sea, skies, 
One chorus let all beings raise — 
All nature's incense rise ! 



246 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON CVIII. 

CHARACTER OF BONAPARTE. 



1 . He is fallen ! We may now pause before that splendid prod- 
igy, which towered amongst us like some ancient ruin, whose 
frown terrified the glance its magnificence attracted. Grand, 
gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the throne a sceptered hermit, 
wrapt in the solitude of his own originality. A mind, bold, inde- 
pendent, and decisive — a will, despotic in its dictates — an en- 
ergy that distanced expedition, and a conscience pliable to every 
touch of interest, marked the outline of this extraordinary char- 
acter- — the most extraordinary, perhaps, that in the annals of 
this world, ever rose, or reigned, or fell. 

2. Flung into life, in the midst of a revolution that quick- 
ened every energy of a people who acknowledge no superior, 
he commenced his course, a stranger by birth, and a scholar 
by charity ! With no friend but his sword, and no fortune but 
his talents, he rushed in the list where rank, and wealth, and 
genius had arrayed themselves, and competition fled from him 
as from the glance of destiny. He knew no motive but inter- 
est — he acknowledged no criterion but success — he worshiped 
no God but ambition, and with an eastern devotion he knelt at 
the shrine of his idolatry. 

3. Subsidiary to this, there was no creed that he did not 
profess, there was no opinion that he did not promulgate; in 
the hope of a dynasty, he upheld the crescent ; for the sake of 
a divorce, he bowed before the cross : the orphan of St. Louis, 
he became the adopted child of the republic: and with a par- 
ricidal ingratitude, on the ruins both of the throne and the tri- 
bune, he reared the throne of his despotism. A professed 
Catholic, he imprisoned the pope ; a pretended patriot, he im- 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 247 

poverished the country; and, in the name of Brutus, he grasped 
without remorse, and wore without shame, the diadem of the 
Caesars ! 



LESSON CIX. 

GOD GIYETH TO ALL ARIGHT. 



MES. LLOYD. 



1. Young Norah sat at her cottage door, 

On an afternoon in May, 
Her baby crept on the soft greensward, 
And her little boy was at play. 

2. The sun had placed on the children's cheeks 

His good-night kiss, but still 
He touched with gold the tall tree-tops, 
And tinted the distant hill. 

3. The golden faded — a purple tinge 

Stole over the western sky, 
The creeping baby was hushed to sleep 
By the soft winds' lullaby. 

4. Still the mother, wrapt in gloomy thoughts, 

Unheeded the falling dew, 
When the father came through the little gate, 
And sat on the threshold, too. 

5. The young wife over his weary form 

A troubled, quick glance sent, 
Then she laid her hand on her husband's arm, 
And murmured her discontent. 



248 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

6. " I was thinking just now of your life of toil, 

And I thought of our neighbor's, too ; 
The days that bring only ease to him, 
Bring hardship alone to you. 

7. " And I thought, if we only live to work, 

If our children must labor, too, 
For their daily bread, it were well for all 
If this weary life were through." 

8. " Why, Norah, your thoughts are strange and wild, 

And your heart is wrong to-night ; 
There's a righteous Giver above," he said, 
" Who giveth to all aright. 

9. " I have worked to-day in the rich man's field, 

I have eat in the rich man's hall ; 
His lands are broad, and his gold is bright 
But my riches are worth them all. 

10. "His lands are broad — they were freely given, 

If again on the pallid cheek 
Of his beautiful, cherished, invalid wife, 
The roses of health might speak. 

11. " His gold is bright — it would be to him 

A source of the purest joy, 
Could it buy a single germ of thought 
For the mind of his idiot boy. 

12. " Nay, Norah, the little sleeper there — 

The boy that has climbed my knee, 
Thy love, dear wife, and our perfect health, 
Are the richest of gifts to me. 

13. " For our hopeful future, our present good, 

I've a thankful heart to-night," 
And Norah said, as she kissed her babe, 
" God giveth to all aright." 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 349 

LESSON CX. 



THE MISERIES OF WAR. 



1. Oh, tell me, if there be any relentings of pity in your 
bosom, how could you endure it, to behold the agonies of the 
dying man, as goaded by pain, he grasps the cold ground in 
convulsive energy ; or, faint with the loss of blood, his pulse 
ebbs low, and the gathering paleness spreads itself over his 
countenance ; or, wrapping himself round in despair, he can 
only mark, by a few feeble quiverings, that life still lurks and 
lingers in his lacerated body, or, lifting up a faded eye, he casts 
on you a look of imploring helplessness for that succor which 
no sympathy can yield him % 

2. It may be painful to dwell thus, in imagination, on the 
distressing picture of one individual ; but, multiply it ten thou- 
sand times ; say how much of all this distress has been heaped 
together on a single field ; give us the arithmetic of this accu- 
mulated wretchedness, and lay it before us with all the accu- 
racy of an official computation, and, strange to tell, not one sigh 
is lifted up among the crowd of eager listeners, as they stand 
on tiptoe, and catch every syllable of utterance which is read 
to them out of the registers of death. 

3. Oh, say what mystic spell is that which so blinds us to 
the suffering of our brethren ; which deafens to our ear the 
voice of bleeding humanity, when it is aggravated by the shriek 
of dying thousands ; which makes the very magnitude of the 
slaughter throw a softening disguise over its cruelties and its 
horrors ; which causes us to eye, with indifference, the field that 
is crowded with the most revolting abominations, and arrests 
that sigh which each individual would, singly, have drawn from 
us, by the report of the many that have fallen and breathed their 
last in agony along with him ! 

K* 



2.50 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON CXI. 

THE TRUE GREATNESS OF OUR COUNTRY. 

SEWARD. 

1. Behold here, then, the philosophy of all our studies on 
this grateful theme. We see only the rising of the sun of em- 
pire — only the fair seeds and beginnings of a great nation. 
Whether that glowing orb shall attain to a meridian height, or 
fall suddenly from its glorious sphere — whether those prolific 
seeds shall mature into autumnal ripeness, or shall perish yield- 
ing no harvest — depends on God's will and providence. But 
God's will and providence operate not by casualty or caprice, 
but by fixed and revealed laws. 

2. If we would secure the greatness set before us, we must 
find the way which those laws indicate, and keep within it. 
That way is new and all untried. We departed early — we de- 
parted at the beginning — from the beaten track of national am- 
bition. Our lot was cast in an age of revolution — a revolution 
which was to bring all mankind from a state of servitude to the 
exercise of self-government — from under the tyranny of physi- 
cal force to the gentle sway of opinion — from under subjection 
to matter to dominion over nature. It was ours to lead the 
way, to take up the cross of republicanism and bear it before 
the nations, to fight its earliest battles, to enjoy its earliest tri- 
umphs, to illustrate its purifying and elevating virtues, and by 
our courage and resolution, our moderation and our magnanim- 
ity, to cheer and sustain its future followers through the bap- 
tism of blood and the martyrdom of fire. 

3. A mission so noble and benevolent demands a generous 
and self-denying enthusiasm. Our greatness is to be won by 
beneficence without ambition. We are in danger of losing that 
holy zeal. We are surrounded by temptations. Our dwell- 
ings become palaces, arid our villages are transformed, as if by 
magic, into great cities. Fugitives from famine and oppression 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 251 

and the sword crowd our shores, and proclaim to us that we 
alone are free, and great, and happy. Ambition for martial 
fame and the lust of conquest have entered the warm, living, 
youthful heart of the republic. Our empire enlarges. The 
castles of enemies fall before our advancing armies ; the gates 
of cities open to receive them. The continent and its islands 
seem ready to fall within our grasp, and more than even fabu- 
lous wealth opens under our feet. No public virtue can with- 
stand, none ever encountered, such seductions as these. Our 
own virtue and moderation must be renewed and fortified un- 
der circumstances so new and peculiar. 

4. Where shall we seek the influence adequate to a task so 
arduous as' this ? Shall we invoke the press and the desk? 
They only reflect the actual condition of the public morals, and 
cannot change them. Shall we resort to the executive author- 
ity ? The time has passed when it could compose and modify 
the political elements around it. Shall we go to the senate ? 
Conspiracies, seditions, and corruptions, in all free countries, 
have begun there. Where, then, shall we go, to find an agency 
that can uphold and renovate declining public virtue? Where, 
should we go, but there, where all republican virtue begins and 
must end — where the Promethean fire is ever to be rekindled, 
until it shall finally expire — where motives are formed and pas- 
sions disciplined ? To the domestic fireside and humble school, 
where the American citizen is trained. 



LESSON CXII. 

EDUCATE THE PEOPLE. 

MACAUXAY. 



1. " Educate the people," was the first admonition addressed 
by Fenn to the commonwealth he founded — "educate the peo- 
ple" was the last legacy of Washington to the republic of-tho 



252 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

United States — "educate the people" was the unceasing ex- 
hortation of Jefferson. Yes, of Jefferson himself; and I quote 
his authority with peculiar favor; for of all the eminent public 
men that the world ever saw, he was the one whose greatest 
delight it was to pare down the functions of governments to 
the lowest possible point, and to leave the freest possible scope 
for the exercise of individual exertion. 

2. Such was the disposition — such, indeed, might be said to 
be the mission of Jefferson ; and yet the latter portion of his 
life was devoted with ceaseless energy to the effort to procure 
the blessing of a state education for Virginia. And against the 
concurrent testimony of all these great authorities, what have 
you, who take the opposite side, to show ? Against this splen- 
did array of authority, you can oppose but one great philoso- 
pher, but one great teacher of wisdom, but one man distin- 
guished for his services in the cause of letters and of humanity. 
Have you, I ask, anything else to oppose to the concurrent tes- 
timony of the wise, and the good, and the great of every age 
and of every clime % Nothing, except a clamor got up so re- 
cently as in 1846 ; a clamor in which those who engage con- 
demn not only the wisest and the best of those who have gone 
before them, but even their former selves. \ 

3. This new theory of government may at least claim the 
merit of originality. It signifies this, as I read it, if it signifies 
anything — all men have hitherto misconceived the proper func- 
.tions of government, which are simply those of the great hang- 
man of the age ; the business of government is to do nothing 
for the repression of crime except by harsh and degrading 
means. From all other means, which operate by exalting the 
intellectual character — by disciplining the passions — by purify- 
ing man's moral nature — government is to be peremptorily 
excluded. The only means it may employ are those of phys- 
ical force — of the lash, the gibbet, and the musket, and of the 
terror which ihey evoke, 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 253 

4. The statesman who wields the destiny of an empire is to 
look calmly on while the population of cities and towns is 
hourly increasing. He knows that on the moral and intellect 
ual culture of the bulk of that population the prosperity of the 
country, nay, more, perhaps the very foundations of the state 
may depend ; no matter, he is not to dream of operating on 
'heir moral and intellectual nature. He is not to advance 
their knowledge. He may build barracks as many as he 
pleases — he may parade bayonets and ordnance to overawe 
them if he dreads their appeal to violence ; if they break out 
into insurrection, he may send troops and artillery to mow 
them down for violating duties he never taught them ; but of 
educating them he must not dream. 

5. The same holds good of the rural districts. He may see, 
and shudder as he sees, the rural population growing up with 
as little Christianity, as little civilization, as little enlightenment 
as the inhabitants of New Guinea, so that there is at every period 
a risk of a jacquerie — no matter, he is not to interfere. He 
must wait till the incendiary fires are blazing — till repeated at- 
tempts are made on the machinery of the district — till riots oc- 
cur, such as disgraced this country in 1830 and 1831 ; and then 
begins his business, which is simply to hang, imprison, or trans- 
port the offenders. He sees seminaries for crime arising on 
all hands around him — seminaries which are eagerly attended 
by the youth of the population ; but he must not endeavor to 
allure them from those haunts. 

6. He may have a thorough conviction on his own mind that 
if he were to offer the means of wholesome instruction to those 
youth, a very great number of them would be drawn away 
from vice, and induced to dedicate their lives to an honorable 
purpose; but he dare not make the experiment. He must 
look calmly on with folded arms, and suffer those to become 
the cancers of the state who might have been made its power 
and its strength. He must remain inactive till the harvest -of 



254 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

crime isj*ipe, and then he must set about discharging the du- 
ties of his mission, which is, to imprison one man, to hang an- 
other, and to send a third to the antipodes. 



LESSON CXIII. 

THE SEA AND ITS DEAD. 



1. "Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further; and here 
shall thy proud waves be stayed." There is no one portion of 
outward nature which so fitly represents the whole, as that of 
which these words are spoken — the vast, deep sea. It is the 
symbol of all that is wild and all that is lovely in the material 
world. Mottled with every hue — the verdure of the wood- 
land, and the azure of the sky ; the crimson and gold of sunset, 
the procession of the clouds, and the glories of the night ; it is 
the mirror of all natural beauty. And yet this placid loveli- 
ness is only the repose of majesty — the play of inevitable power 
— for all terrestrial energies are in the springs of the sea and 
in the rolling of its billows. And as to .the mystery of nature 
— this infinite wonder in which we are embosomed — even the 
starry heavens are not so pressible an emblem as this world of 
living waters ; fathomless, without a track, out of which conti- 
nents emerge, and in which they sink. 

2. I say, then, that the ocean may be fitly taken as a rep- 
resentative of the physical world and the divine mandate. 
" Hitherto shalt thou come, and no further ; and here shall thy 
proud waves be stayed," — may properly be considered as ad- 
dressed to the entire array of material forces. And those forces, 
as represented by this great deep, are in the first place within 
the limits of natural law. A wide domain is assigned to the 



KHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 255 

ocean — it envelops more than half the globe. Our continents 
and islands, on the map of the world, look small in comparison 
with its sweep. 

3. And I need not say how feeble man is, and all his skill, 
before its willful fury. Say what we will, with all our famili- 
arity and all our hardihood, our nature intuitively shudders at the 
thought of the sea. We cannot travel over it with the same 
quiet enjoyments that we feel upon the land. This is our birth- 
place and our home. That is naturally hostile to us. We can- 
not till it and plant it, and make it wear our image as the earth 
does. It never softens with our civilization. It retains no im- 
pression of humanity ; it is wild nature forever — savage even 
in its calmest moods. We travel upon it as through a barba- 
rian dominion with a flag of truce. The old sailor, with all his 
recklessness, takes from his occupation a solemn vein, as though 
he felt always the presence of uncontrollable power, and sailed 
in sight of death. 

4. And this train of thought especially occurs to us when 
we speak of "the dead that are in the sea" — the legions that it 
has summoned to a hasty end, and that have "sunk like lead in 
its mighty waters." And, as it seems to us, what an untimeli- 
ness in their dissolution ! What ghastliness and horror in their 
taking away ! Sometimes with one burst of waves, mingling 
time and eternity; sometimes wich protracted suffering, ex- 
panding minutes into years, and with thoughts of hearts that 
are yearning for them, and expectant forms on which they would 
have gladly died, but which they shall press no more. Dying 
far away, too, in awful loneliness, with the black tempest lash- 
ing around them, or with grim, inevitable ice-walls shutting 
them in ; nay, even in calm waters, with possible rescue at 
hand, but with selfishness and cowardice leaving them to their 
fate ! Dying with their faces turned toward home, and the 
very air of its shores in their nostrils ! 

5. The dead that are in the sea ! Because of them there 



256 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

arises an agony of bereavement, as for none else. "We mourn 
for those by whose death-beds we stand, in silent anguish ta- 
king a farewell look. But this does not pierce our hearts like 
the fate of those concerning whom there is only the vague rec- 
ord, " Lost at sea ! " — gone down in a nameless death, per- 
ished in forms we know not how ! gone down into the cold 
waters without a winding-sheet and without a kiss ; nay, some- 
times engendering a night-mare hope, worse than death or des- 
pair, that they may be still alive, lingering upon some obscure 
shore, carried off in some far-bound ship, or detained by some 
savage tribe, but yet to come back, even though many years 
have rolled away, and change our long sorrow into laughter. 

6. The dead that are in the sea ! The manly forms, the 
beautiful faces, the dear looks, the hands that still grasp their 
trust, the babes that still nestle in their mothers' bosoms, for 
whidi it has so often opened and closed the doors of its mighty 
sepulchre. We bide the chances where they lie with poetry, 
we surround them with the gorgeousness and " sinless trance" 
of the deep ; or we adopt a higher strain, and say that, " in the 
metaphysics of the belief," it makes no difference where or 
what the grave is ; but we cannot think peacefully of them, as 
we do of those who pass from us by disease or decay, and who 
sleep on the breast of their mother earth. 

7. So we do not wonder, my friends, that there are thousands 
to whom the sea is only a terrible power, in whose ears it is 
chanting a perpetual requiem, and who think it a fitting sym- 
bol of those material forces which are so relentless and so cruel, 
and before which man is so impotent. 






RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 257 

LESSON CXIV. 

THE PRICE OF ELOQUENCE. 
C. COLTON. 

1. More than twenty centuries ago, the orphan son of an 
Athenian sword-cutler, neglected by his guardians, and regarded 
as a youth of feeble promise, became, at the age of sixteen, en- 
amored of eloquence. He resolved, with a strength of will and 
an ardor of enthusiasm to which nothing is insuperable, to be 
himself eloquent. Thh youth becomes successively the docile 
pupil of Callistratus, Isseus, Isocrates, and Plato. But his stud 
ies, though embracing a liberal and wide range of letters, phi- 
losophy, and science, are not confined to the academy or the 
public grove. We him daily ascending the Acropolis, and 
panting for breath as he gains the summit. Again he is seen 
laboriously climbing Olympus, the Hymettus, and every emi- 
nence where. genius or the muses have breathed their inspi- 
ration. 

2. His object, which he pursues with an ardor that never 
flags, and a diligence that never tires, is twofold, viz : to drink 
in the free and fresh inspirations of nature and art, and, by un- 
remitting daily exercise, to give expansion to his chest, and 
strength and freedom of play to his lungs. 

3. We see him again, when the tempest comes on, hurrying 
to the least frequented parts of the Piraeus or Phalerus, and 
while the deafening thunders roar around him, and the deep 
and stirring eloquence of many waters expands and fills his soul, 
lifting his feeble and stammering voice, and essaying to give it 
compass, and flexibility, and power, while he " talks with the 
thunder as friend to friend, and weaves his garland of the light- 
ning's wing." 

4. We see this ardent Athenian youth again, amidst the pro- 
foundest solitudes of nature, holding communion with high and 
ennobling thoughts stirred within his bosom by the spirit of 

17 



258 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

the great and godlike, the sublime and beautiful, from every 
object of nature and of plastic art around him. 

5. At length, day after day and night after night, for months, 
he is seen entering a solitary cave. How is he busied in that 
subterranean chamber 1 With his head half shaven, that he 
may not be tempted to appear too early in society or in public, 
we find him poring over the tomes of rhetoricians, historians, 
philosophers, and poets ; with his pen, also, eight times tran- 
scribing Thucydides, that he may make his own, some portion 
of the terseness, energy, and fire of that historian. 

6. After all this educational training of the greatest and 
best masters, living and dead — after all this self-imposed disci- 
pline of intellect and spirit, and when he has reached the age 
of ripe manhood, we go to witness his first effort in forensic 
eloquence. 

7. The hisses of his fastidious auditory stifle and repress for 
a time the kindling energy and fervor of his soul, and his still 
embarrassed and stammering enunciation seems to jeopardize 
the cause he is pleading. At length he rises in a conscious 
mastery of his subject and of himself, and with the self-sustained 
dignity of the true orator, conciliates, convinces, moves, per- 
suades, by the clearness, fitness, and force of his arguments, and 
the thrilling pathos and pungency of his appeals. 

8. This is eloquence — the eloquence of the Athenian Demos- 
thenes — the triumph of educational skill and self-discipline, 
united, indeed, with great powers, and with a lofty and indom- 
itable force of will. 

9. The meed which the concurrent suffrages of more than 
two thousand years, in every civilized nation of the globe, have 
awarded to this great orator, we readily concede to him. But 
in our admiration of the power of his eloquence, we are too 
willing to forget the laborious and pains-taking efforts of study 
and discipline by which he attained his unrivaled eminence hi 
oratorical power. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 259 

LESSON CXV. 

NEW ENGLAND AND THE UNION. 



1. Glorious New England ! thou art still true to thy an- 
cient fame, and worthy of thy ancestral honors. On thy pleasant 
valleys rest, like sweet dews of morning, the gentle recollections 
of our early life ; around thy hills and mountains cling, like 
gathering mists, the mighty memories of the revolution ; and 
far away in the horizon of thy past, gleam, like thy own bright 
northern lights, the awful virtues of our Pilgrim sires ! But 
while we devote this day to the remembrance of our native 
land, we forget not that in which our happy lot is cast. We 
exult in the reflection, that though we count by thousands the 
miles which separate us from our birthplace, still our country 
is the same. We are no exiles meeting upon the banks of a 
foreign river, to swell its waters with our homesick tears. 
Here floats the same banner which rustled above our boyish 
heads, except that its mighty folds are wider, and its glittering 
stars increased in number. 

' 2. The sons of New England are found in every state of the 
broad republic ! In the east, the south, and the unbounded 
west, their blood mingles freely with every kindred current. 
We have but changed our chamber in the paternal mansion ; 
in all its rooms we are at home, and all who inhabit it are our 
brothers. To us the Union has but one domestic hearth ; its 
household gods are all the same. Upon us, then, peculiarly de- 
volves the duty of feeding the fires upon that kindly hearth ; 
of guarding with pious care those sacred household gods. 

3. We cannot do with less than the whole Union ! to us it 
admits of no division. In the veins of our children flows north- 
ern and southern blood : how shall it be separated ? who shall 
put asunder the best affections of the heart, the noblest instincts 



260 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

of our nature % We love the land of our adoption ; so do we 
that of our birth. Let us ever be true to both ; and always 
exert ourselves in maintaining the unity of our country, the in- 
tegrity of the republic. 

4. Accursed, then, be the hand put forth to loosen the golden 
cord of union ! thrice accursed the traitorous lips which shall 
propose its severance ! 



LESSON CXVI. 
daniel Webster's style. 



1. Every great writer has a style of his own, constructed 
according to the character of his mind and disposition. The 
style of Mr. Webster has great merit, not only for its vigor, 
clearness, and compression, but for the broad impress which it 
bears of the writer's nature. It owes nothing to the usual tricks 
of rhetoric, but seems the unforced utterance of his intellect, 
and is eminently Websterian. There is a granite-like strength 
in its construction. It varies, from the simple force and direct- 
ness of logical statement, to a fierce, trampling energy of man- 
ner, with each variation of his mind from calmness to ex- 
citement. 

2. He appears moderately gifted with fluency. Were it not 
for the precision and grasp of his mind, he would probably be 
a hesitating extemporaneous speaker. But with a limited com- 
mand of language, he has a large command of expression. He 
has none of the faults which spring from verbal fluency, and is 
never misled by his vocabulary. Words, in his mind, are not 
masters, but instruments. They seem selected, or rather 
clutched, by the faculty or feeling they serve. They never 
overload his meaning. Perhaps extreme readiness in the use 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 261 

of language is prejudicial to depth and intensity of thinking. 
The ease with which a half-formed idea, swimming on the 
mind's surface, is clothed in equivocal words, and illustrated 
with vague images, is the "fatal facility" which produces me- 
diocrity of thought. 

3. In Mr. Webster's style, we always perceive that a presi- 
ding power of intellect regulates his use of terms. The am- 
plitude of his comprehension is the source of his felicity of ex- 
pression. He bends language into the shape of his thought ; 
he never accomodates his thought to his language. The grave, 
high, earnest nature of the man looks out upon us from his well- 
knit, massive, compact sentences. We feel that we are read- 
ing the works of one whose greatness of mind and strength of 
passion no conventionalism could distort, and no exterior pro- 
cess of culture could polish into feebleness and affectation ; of 
one who has lived a life, as well as passed through a college — 
who has looked at nature and man as they are in themselves, 
not as they appear in books. We can trace back expressions 
to influences coming from the woods and fields — from the fire- 
side of the farmer — from the intercourse of social life. 

4. The secret of his style is not to be found in Karnes or 
Blair, but in his own mental and moral constitution. There is 
a tough, sinewy strength in his diction, which gives it almost 
muscular power in forcing its way to the heart and understand- 
ing. Occasionally, his words are of that kind which are called 
"half-battles, stronger than most men's deeds." In the course 
of an abstract discussion, or a clear statement of facts, he will 
throw in a sentence which almost makes us spring to our feet. 
When vehemently roused, either from the excitement of oppo- 
sition, or in unfolding a great principle which fills and expands 
his soul, or in paying homage to some noble examplar of vir- 
tue and genius, his style has a Miltonic grandeur and roll, which 
can hardly be surpassed for majestic eloquence. 

5. In that exulting rush of the mind, when every faculty is 



262 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

permeated by feeling, and works with all the force of passion, 
his style has a corresponding swiftness and energy, and seems 
endowed with power to sweep all obstacles from its path. In 
those inimitable touches of wit and sarcasm, also, where so 
much depends on the selection and collocation of apt and ex- 
pressive language, and where the object is to pelt and tease 
rather than to crush, his diction glides easily into colloquial 
forms, and sparkes with animation and point. 



LESSON CXVII. 

FARMERS. 



1. Farmers planted these colonies — all of them — and or- 
ganized their governments. They were farmers who defied 
the British soldiery on Bunker Hill, and drove them back from 
Lexington. They were farmers — aye, Vermont farmers, who 
captured the fortress at Ticonderoga, and accepted its capitula- 
tion in the name of the " Great Jehovah and the continental 
congress," and thus gave over the first fortified post to the 
cause of the revolution. They were farmers who checked 
British power at Saratoga, and broke it in pieces like a potter's 
vessel at Yorktown. 

2. They were farmers who reorganized the several states 
and the federal government, and established them all on the 
principles of equality and affiliation. In every state, and in the 
whole Union, they constitute the broad electoral faculty, and 
by their preponderating suffrages the vast and complex ma 
chine is perpetually sustained and kept in regular motion and 
operation. That it is in the main well administered, we all 
know by experienced security and happiness ; that it might be 
better administered, our perpetual and intense passion for 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 263 

change fully proves ; that it is administered no better, results 
from what 1 From the fact that the electoral body, the farm- 
ers, intelligent and patriotic as they are, may nevertheless be- 
come more intelligent and more patriotic than they now are. 
The more intelligent and patriotic they become, the more ef- 
fective will be their control, and the wiser their direction of the 
government. Is there not room 1 Nay, is there not need for 
more activity, energy, and efficiency, on their part, for their 
own security and welfare ] 

3. In the federal government commerce has its minister and 
department, the law its organ and representative, and the arts 
their commissioner and bureau. But the vast interest of agri- 
culture has only a single desk and a subordinate clerk in the 
basement of the patent-office. It is scarcely better in the states. 
An empty charter of incorporation, with a scanty endowment, 
constitutes substantially all that has been anywhere done for 
agriculture. Gentlemen, I like not that it should be so. 

4. Our nation is rolling forward in a high career, exposed to 
shocks and dangers. It needs the utmost wisdom and virtue 
to guide it safely ; it needs the steady and enlightened direction 
which, of all others, the farmers of the United States can best 
exercise, because, being freeholders invested with equal power 
of suffrage, they are at once the most liberal and the most con- 
servative element in the country. 



LESSON CXVffl. 

THE MAYFLOWER. 



1. Methinks I see it now, that one solitary, adventurous 
vessel, the Mayflower^ of a forlorn hope, freighted with the pros- 
pects of a future state, and bound across the unknown sea. I 



264 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

behold it pursuing, with a thousand misgivings, the uncertain, 
the tedious voyage. Suns rise and set, and weeks and months 
pass, and winter surprises them on the deep, but brings them 
not the sight of the wished-for shore. I see them now scantily- 
supplied with provisions, crowded almost to suffocation in their 
ill-stored prison, delayed by calms, pursuing a circuitous route, 
and now driven in fury before the raging tempest, on the high 
and giddy waves. 

2. The awful voice of the storm howls through the rigging. 
The laboring masts seem straining from their base ; the dis- 
mal sound of the pumps is heard ; the ship leaps, as it were, 
madly, from billow to billow ; the ocean breaks, and settles 
with engulfing floods over the floating deck, and beats with 
deadening weight against the staggering vessel. I see them, 
escaped from these perils, pursuing their all but desperate un- 
dertaking, and landed at last, after a five months' passage, on 
the ice-clad rocks of Plymouth — weak and weary from the 
voyage — poorly armed, scantily provisioned, depending on the 
charity of their ship-master for a draught of beer on board, 
drinking nothing but water on shore — without shelter — without 
means — surrounded by hostile tribes. 

3. Shut now the volume of history, and tell me, on any 
principle of human probability, what shall be the fate of this 
handful of adventurers. Tell me, man of military science, in 
how many months were they all swept off by the thirty savage 
tribes, enumerated within the early limits of New England 'i 
Tell me, politician, how long did this shadow of a colony, on 
which your conventions and treaties had not smiled, languish 
on the distant coast 1 

4. Student of history, compare for me the baffled projects, 
the deserted settlements, the abandoned adventurers, of other 
times, and find the parallel of this. Was it the winter's storm, 
beating upon the houseless heads of women and children; was 
it hard labor and spare meals ; was it disease, was it the torn 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 265 

ahawk, was it the deep malady of a blighted hope, a ruined en- 
terprise, and a broken heart, aching in its last moments, at the 
recollection of the loved and left, beyond the sea ; was it some, 
or all of these united, that hurried this forsaken company to 
their melancholy fate ? 

5. And is it possible, that neither of these causes, that not 
all combined, were able to blast this bud of hope 1 Is it pos- 
sible, that from a beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy, not 
so much of admiration as of pity, there has gone forth a pro- 
gress so steady, a growth so wonderful, a reality so important, 
a promise yet to be fulfilled, so glorious ? 



LESSON CXIX. 

A CALL TO LIBERTY. 



1. None but they who set a just value upon the blessings 
of liberty, are worthy to enjoy her. Your illustrious fathers 
were her zealous votaries — when the blasting frowns of tyr- 
anny drove her from public view, they clasped her in their 
arms ; they cherished her in their generous bosoms ; they 
brought her safe over the rough ocean, and fixed her seat in 
this then dreary wilderness ; they nursed her infant age with 
the most tender care ; for her sake, they patiently bore the se- 
verest hardships ; for her support, they underwent the most 
rugged toils ; in her defense, they boldly encountered the most 
alarming dangers. 

2. Neither the ravenous beasts that ranged the woods for 
prey, nor the more furious savages of the wilderness, could 
damp their ardor ! Whilst with one hand they broke the stub- 
born glebe, with the other they grasped their weapons, ever 
ready to protect her from danger. No sacrifice, not even their 

L 



266 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

own blood, was esteemed too rich a libation for her altar ! God 
prospered their valor ; they preserved her brilliancy unsullied ; 
they enjoyed her whilst they lived, and dying, bequeathed the 
dear inheritance to your care. And as they left you this glo- 
rious legacy, they have undoubtedly transmitted to you some 
portion of their noble spirit, to inspire you with virtue to merit 
her, and courage to preserve her. You surely cannot, with 
such examples before your eyes as every page of the history 
of this country affords, suffer your liberties to be ravished from 
you by lawless force, or cajoled away by flattery and fraud. 

3. The voice of your fathers' blood calls to you from the 
ground, My sons, scorn to be slaves ! In vain we met the 
frowns of tyrants — in vain we crossed the boisterous ocean, 
found a new world, and prepared it for the happy residence of 
liberty — in vain we toiled — in vain we fought — we bled in 
vain, if you, our offspring, want valor to repel the assaults of 
her invaders ! Stain not the glory of your worthy ancestors, 
but, like them, resolve never to part with your birthright ; be 
wise in your deliberations, and determined in your exertions, 
for the preservation of your liberties. 



LESSON CXX. 

APPEAL IN BEHALF OF AMERICAN LIBERTY. 



1. I call upon you, fathers, by the shades of your ancestors, 
by the dear ashes which repose in this precious soil, by all you 
are, and all you hope to be; resist every object of disunion, re- 
sist every encroachment upon your liberties, resist every at 
tempt to fetter your consciences, or smother your public schools, 
or extinguish your system of public instruction. 

2. I call upon you, mothers, by that which never fails in 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 267 

woman, the love of your offspring ; teach them, as they climb 
your knees, or lean on your bosoms, the blessings of liberty. 
Swear them at the altar, as with their baptismal vows, to be 
true to their country, and never to forget or forsake her. 

3. I call upon you, young men, to remember whose sons 
you are ; whose inheritance you possess. Life can never be 
too short, which brings nothing but disgrace and oppression. 
Death never comes too soon, if necessary in defense of the lib- 
erties of your country. 

4. I call upon you, old men, for your counsels, and your 
prayers, and your benedictions. May not your gray hairs go 
down in sorrow to the grave, with the recollection that you 
have lived in vain. May not your last sun sink in the west 
upon a nation of slaves. 

5. No, I read in the destiny of my country far better hopes, 
far brighter visions. We, who are now assembled here, must 
soon be gathered to the congregation of other days. The time 
of our departure is at hand, to make way for our children upon 
the theater of life. May God speed them and theirs. May 
he, who at the distance of another century shall stand here to 
celebrate this day, still look round upon a free, happy, and vir- 
tuous people. May he have reason to exult as we do. May 
he, with all the enthusiasm of truth as well as of poetry, ex- 
claim, that here is still his country. 



LESSON CXXI. 

EULOGY ON JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 



1. I will not suffer myself to speak all I feel on this sad oc- 
casion. While the American people have lost a father and a 
guide — while humanity has lost her most eloquent, persevering, 



268 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

and indomitable advocate — I have lost a patron, a guide, a conn 
selor, and a friend — one whom I loved scarcely less than the 
dearest relations, and venerated above all that was mortal 
among men. 

2. 1 speak in behalf of my associate's. Great as he was, il- 
lustrious as his achievements were, he was one of us. He 
was a civilian, a lawyer, a jurist. His great mind was imbued 
with the science of our noble profession, and enriched with all 
congenial learning ; and to these he added the ornaments of 
rhetoric and eloquence. Trained in constitutional law, in the 
school of its founders, Washington called him in precocious 
youth to the kindred field of diplomacy. That mission dis- 
charged, he returned to his profession, and devoted himself to 
it with assiduity until the people called him from the duty of 
expounding laws to the higher department of making laws. 

3. Rising through various and very responsible departments 
of public service, he became chief-magistrate of the republic. 
There he impressed on its history an enduring illustration of a 
wise, peaceful, and enlightened administration, devoted to the 
cultivation of peace, to its arts and its interests, and to extend- 
ing the sway of republican institutions over the continent, and 
yet in all things subordinate to the law and regulated by 
the law. 

4. When he had thus rilled the measure of the world's ex- 
pectation and of his own generous ambition, he resumed his 
place in the national legislature, and devoted what remained 
of life to a long, arduous, and finally successful vindication of 
the constitutional liberty of speech, and of the universal, inalien- 
able right of petition. Nor can we forget that, while thus en- 
gaged, he set a noble example for us, by returning again to the 
field of his early labors, the unpaid, unrivaled advocate of the 
Amistad captives. 

5. Those unhappy fugitives, rescued by him from the op 
pression of two great nations, were restored to Africa, the first 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 269 

of the many millions of her people of whom she had been de- 
spoiled by the avarice of our superior race. Whatever dif- 
ference of opinion there may be concerning the principles and 
policy of the deceased, all men will now agree that he won 
among American statesmen, and eminently more than any 
other, the fame accorded to the most illustrious chevalier of 
France — the fame of a statesman sans peur et sans reproche. 

6. It is fit that the death of such a citizen should be marked 
with all the testimonials of public grief, in order that his life 
may have its just influence on mankind. It is fit that it should 
be honored in this tribunal, the fame of which is not unknown 
throughout the world, and the records of which will remain 
forever. In behalf of the members of the bar, therefore, I 
move that such an expression be entered on the record, and 
that the court do then adjourn. 



LESSON CXXII. 

FRENCH AGGRESSIONS. 



1. The solemn oath of America has ascended to heaven. She 
has sworn to preserve her independence, her religion, and her 
laws, or nobly perish in their defense, and be buried in the 
wrecks of her empire. To the fate of our government is 
united the fate of our country. The convulsions that destroy 
the one, must desolate the other. Their destinies are inter- 
woven, and they must triumph or fall together. 

2. Where, then, is the man, so hardened in political iniquity, 
as to advocate the victories of French arms, which would ren- 
der his countrymen slaves, or to promote the diffusion of 
French principles, which would render them savages ? Can it 
be doubted, that the pike of a French soldier is less cruel and 



270 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

ferocious than the fraternity of a French philosopher 1 Where 
is the youth in this assembly, who could, without agonized 
emotions, behold the Gallic invader hurling the brand of de- 
vastation into the dwelling of his father ; or with sacrilegious 
cupidity plundering the communion table of his God? 

3. Who could witness, without indignant desperation, the 
mother who bore him, inhumanly murdered in the defense of 
her infants'? Who could hear, without frantic horror, the 
shrieks of a sister, flying from pollution, and leaping from the 
blazing roof, to impale herself on the point of a halberd 1 "If 
any, speak, for him I have offended ! " No, my fellow-citizens, 
these scenes are never to be witnessed by American eyes. The 
souls of your ancestors still live in the bosom of their descend- 
ants ; and rather than submit this fair land of their inheritance 
to ravage and dishonor, from hoary age to helpless infancy, they 
will form one united bulwark, and oppose their breasts to the 
assailing foe. 



LESSON CXXIIL 

REPLY TO WALPOLE. 



1. Sir, the atrocious crime of being a young man, which the 
honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and decency charged 
upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny; but con- 
tent myself with wishing that I may be one of those whose fol- 
lies cease with their youth ; and not of that number who are 
ignorant in spite of experience. 

2. Whether youth can be imputed to any man as a reproach, 
I will not, sir, assume the province of determining ; but surely, 
age may become justly contemptible, if the opportunities which 
it brings have passed away without improvement, and vice ap- 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 271 

pears to prevail when the passions have subsided. The wretch 
who, after having seen the consequences of a thousand errors, 
continues still to blunder, and whose age has only added ob- 
stinacy to stupidity, is surely the object of either abhorrence or 
contempt, and deserves not that his gray hairs should secure 
him from insult. Much more ? sir, is he to be abhorred, who, 
as he has advanced in age, has receded from virtue, and be- 
comes more wicked with less temptation; who prostitutes him- 
self for money which he cannot enjoy, and spends the remains 
of his life in the ruin of his country. 

3. But youth, sir, is not my only crime. I have been ac- 
cused of acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either 
imply some peculiarities of gesture ; or, dissimilation of my 
real sentiments, and the adoption of the opinions and language 
of another man. 

4. In the first sense the charge is too trifling to be confuted, 
and deserves only to be mentioned that it may be despised. 
I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my own language: 
and though I may, perhaps, have some ambition, yet to please 
this gentleman, I shall not lay myself under any restraint, nor 
very solicitously copy his diction, or his mien, however ma- 
tured by age, or modeled by experience. If any man shall, 
by charging me with theatrical behavior, imply that I utter 
any sentiments but my own, I shall treat him as a calumniator 
and a villain ; nor shall any protection shelter him from the 
treatment he deserves. I shall, on such an occasion, without 
scruple, trample upon all those forms with which wealth and 
dignity intrench themselves, nor shall anything but age re- 
strain my resentment ; age which always brings one privilege, 
that of being insolent and supercilious without punishment. 

5. But with regard, sir, to those whom I have offended, I 
am of opinion, that if I had acted a borrowed part I should 
have avoided their censure ; the heat that offended them was 
the ardor of conviction, and' that zeal for the service of my 



272 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

country, which neither hope nor fear shall influence rne to sup- 
press. I will not sit unconcerned while my liberty is invaded, 
nor look in silence upon public robbery. I will exert my en- 
deavors, at whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor, and drag 
the thief to justice — whoever may protect them in their vil- 
lainy, and whoever may partake of their plunder. 



LESSON CXXIV. 

THE IDIOT'S TRIAL. 



1. There is proof, gentlemen, stronger than all this. It is 
silent, yet speaking. It is that idiotic smile which plays con- 
tinually on the face of the maniac. It took its seat there while 
he was in the state prison. In his solitary cell, under the pres- 
sure of his severe tasks and trials in the work-shop, and during 
the solemnities of public worship in the chapel, it appealed, al- 
though in vain, to his task-masters and his teachers. It is a 
smile, never rising into laughter, without motive or cause — the 
smile of vacuity. His mother saw it when he came out of 
prison, and it broke her heart. John De Puy saw it and knew 
his brother was demented. Deborah De Puy observed it and 
knew him for a fool. David Winner read in it the ruin of his 
friend, Sally's son. It has never forsaken him in his later tri- 
als. He laughed in the face of Parker, while on confession at 
Baldwinsville. He laughed involuntarily in the faces of War- 
den, and Curtis, and Worden, and Austin, and Bigelow, and 
Smith, and Brigham, and Spencer. 

2. He laughs perpetually here. Even when Van Arsdale 
showed the scarred traces of the assassin's knife, and when 
Helen Holmes related the dreadful story of the murder of her 
patrons and friends, he laughed. He laughs while I am plead- 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 273 

ing his griefs. He laughs when the attorney-general's bolts 
would seem to rive his heart. He will laugh when you declare 
him guilty. When the judge shall proceed to the last fatal 
ceremony, and demand what he has to say why the sentence 
of the law should not be pronounced upon him, although there 
should not be an unmoistened eye in this vast assembly, and 
the stern voice addressing him should tremble with emotion, 
he will even then look up in the face of the court and laugh, 
from the irresistible emotions of a shattered mind, delighted 
and lost in the confused memory of absurd and ridiculous as- 
sociations. 

3. Follow him to the scaffold. The executioner cannot dis- 
turb the calmness of the idiot. He will laugh in the agony of 
death. Do you not know the significance of this strange and 
unnatural risibility ? It is a proof that God does not forsake 
even the poor wretch whom we pity or despise. There are, 
in every human memory, a well of joys and a fountain of sor- 
rows. Disease opens wide the one, and seals up the other 
forever. 



LESSON CXXV. 

WRONGS OF THE INDIANS. 



1. If the Indians had the vices of savage life, they had the 
virtues also. They were true to their country, their friends, 
and their homes. If they forgave not injury, neither did they 
forget kindness. If their vengeance was terrible, their fidelity 
and generosity were unconquerable also. Their love, like their 
hate, stopped not on this side of the grave. But where are 
they ? Where are the villages, and warriors, and youth? 
The sachems and the tribes'? The hunters and their families? 



274 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

They have perished. They are consumed. The wasting pes- 
tilence has not alone done the mighty work. No, nor famine, 
or war. There has been a mightier power, a moral canker, 
which hath eaten into their heart-cores — a plague which the 
touch of the white man communicated — a poison which be- 
trayed them into a lingering ruin. 

2. The winds of the Atlantic fan not a single region which 
they may now call their own. Already the last feeble rem- 
nants of the race are preparing for their journey beyond the 
Mississippi. I see them leave their miserable homes, the aged, 
the helpless, the women, and the warriors, "few and faint, yet 
fearless still." The ashes are cold on their native hearths, 
The smoke no longer curls round their lowly cabins. They 
move on with a slow, unsteady step. The white man is upon 
their heels, for terror or dispatch ; but they heed him not. 

3. They turn to take a last look of their deserted villages. 
They cast a last glance upon the graves of their fathers. They 
shed no tears ; they utter no cries ; they heave no groans. 
There is something in their hearts which passes speech. There 
is something in their looks, not of vengeance or submission ; 
but of hard necessity, which stifles both ; which chokes all ut- 
terance ; which has no aim or method. It is courage absorbed 
in despair. They linger but for a moment. Their look is on- 
ward. They have passed the fatal stream. It shall never be 
repassed by them— no, never. Yet there lies not between us 
and them an impassable gulf. They know, and feel, that there 
is for them still one remove farther, not distant, nor unseen. 
It is the general burial-ground of their race. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 275 

LESSON CXXVI. 

THE TOMAHAWK SUBMISSIVE TO ELOQUENCE. 



1. Twenty tomahawks were raised; twenty arrows drawn 
to their head. Yet stood Harold, stern and collected — at bay 
■ — parleying only with his sword. He waved his arm! Smit- 
ten with a sense of their cowardice, perhaps, or by his great 
dignity, more awful for his very youth, their weapons dropped, 
and their countenances were uplifted upon him, less in hatred 
than in wonder. 

2. The old men gathered about him — he leaned upon his 
sabre. Their eyes shone with admiration ; such heroic deport- 
ment, in one so young — a boy ! so intrepid ! so prompt ! so 
graceful ! so eloquent, too ! — for, knowing the effect of elo- 
quence, and feeling the loftiness of his own nature, the inno- 
cence of his own heart, the character of the Indians for hospi- 
tality, and their veneration for his blood, Harold dealt out the 
thunder of his strength to these rude barbarians of the wilder- 
ness, till they, young and old, gathering nearer and nearer in 
their devotion, threw down their weapons at his feet, and 
formed a rampart of locked arms and hearts about him, through 
which his eloquence thrilled and lightened like electricity. The 
old greeted him with a lofty step, as the patriarch welcomes 
his boy from the triumph of far-off battle ; and the young clave 
to him and clung to him, and shouted in their self-abandonment, 
like brothers round a conquering brother. 

3. " Warriors ! " he said, " Brethren ! " — (their tomahawks 
were brandished simultaneously, at the sound of his terrible 
voice, as if preparing for the onset.) His tones grew deeper, 
and less threatening. "Brothers, let us talk together of Logan ! 
Ye who have known him, ye aged men ! bear ye testimony to 
the deeds of his strength. Who was like him ? Who could 



276 ELOCUTION AND OKATORY. 

resist him? Who may abide the hurricane in its volley? 
Who may withstand the winds that uproot the great trees 
of the mountain ? Let him be the foe of Logan ? Thrice in 
one day hath he given battle. Thrice in one day hath he come 
back victorious. Who may bear up against the strong man % 
the man of war 1 Let them that are young hear me. Let 
them follow the course of Logan. He goes in clouds and 
whirlwinds — in the fire and in the smoke. Let them follow 
him. Warriors ! Logan was the father of Harold ! " 

4. They fell back in astonishment, but they believed him ; 
for Harold's word was unquestioned, undoubted evidence, to 
them that knew him. 



LESSON CXXVII. 



1. The deed was executed with a degree of self-possession 
and steadiness, equal to the wickedness with which it was plan- 
ned. The circumstances, now clearly in evidence, spread out 
the whole scene before us. Deep sleep had fallen on the des- 
tined victim, and on all beneath his roof. A healthful old man 
to whom sleep was sweet, the first sound slumbers held him in 
their soft, but strong embrace. The assassin enters through the 
window already prepared, into an unoccupied apartment. With 
noiseless foot he paces the lonely hall, half lighted by the moon 
—he winds up the ascent of the stairs, and reaches the door 
of the chamber. Of this he moves the lock, by soft and con- 
tinued pressure, till it turns on its hinges without noise ; and he 
enters, and beholds his victim before him. 

2. The room was uncommonly open to the admission of 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL, 27*7 

light. The face of the innocent sleeper was turned from the 
murderer, and the beams of the moon, resting on the gray locks 
of his aged temple, showed him where to strike. The fatal 
blow is given ! and the victim passes, without a struggle or a 
motion, from the repose of sleep to the repose of death ? It 
is the assassin's purpose to make sure work ; and he yet plies 
the dagger, though it was obvious that life had been destroyed 
by the blow of the bludgeon. He even raises the aged arm, 
that he may not fail in his aim at the heart, and replaces it 
again over the wounds of the poignard ! To finish the picture, 
he explores the wrist for the pulse ! He feels for it, and as- 
certains that it beats no longer ! It is accomplished ! The 
deed is done. He retreats, retraces his steps to the window, 
passes out through it as he came in, and escapes. He has done 
the murder — no eye has seen him, no ear has heard him. The 
secret is his own, and is safe ! 

3. Ah! gentlemen, that was a dreadful mistake. Such a se- 
cret can be safe nowhere. The whole creation of God has neither 
nook nor corner, where the guilty can bestow it, and say it is 
safe. Not to speak of that Eye which glances through all dis- 
guises, and beholds everything, as in the splendor of noon — 
such secrets of guilt are never safe from detection, even by 
man. 

4. True it is, generally speaking, that " murder will out." 
True it is, that Providence hath so ordained, and doth so govern 
things, that those who break the great law of heaven by shed- 
ding man's blood, seldom succeed in avoiding discovery : espe- 
cially in a case exciting so much attention as this, discovery 
must and will come, sooner or later. A thousand eyes turn 
at once to explore every man, everything, every circumstance, 
connected with the time and place ; a thousand ears catch ev- 
ery whisper ; a thousand excited minds intensely dwell on the 
scene ; shedding all their light, and ready to kindle the slightest 



278 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

circumstance into a blaze of discovery. Meantime, the guilty 
soul cannot keep its own secret. 

5. It is false to itself; or rather it feels an irresistible impulse 
of conscience to be true to itself: it labors under its guilty pos- 
session, and knows not what to do with it. The human heart 
was not made for the residence of such an inhabitant ; it finds 
itself preyed on by a torment which it dares not acknowledge 
to God or man. A vulture is devouring it, and it asks no sym- 
pathy or assistance, either from heaven or earth. 

6. The secret which the murderer possesses, soon comes to 
possess him. And like the evil spirits of which we read, it 
overcomes him, and leads him whithersoever it will. He feels 
it beating at his heart, rising to his throat, and demanding dis- 
closure. He thinks the whole world sees it in his face, reads 
it in his eyes, and almost hears its workings in the very silence 
of his thoughts. It has become his master. It betrays his dis- 
cretion, it breaks down his courage, it conquers his prudence. 
When suspicions from without begin to embarrass him, and the 
net of circumstances to entangle him, the fatal secret struggles 
with still greater violence to burst forth. It must be confessed, 
it will be confessed ; there is no refuge from confession but su- 
icide ; and suicide is confession. 



LESSON CXXVffl. 

CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 



1. Such, sir, is the natural progress of human operations, and 
such the unsubstantial mockery of human pride. But I should, 
perhaps apologize for this digression. The tombs are at best a 
6ad, although an instructive subject. At all events, they are ill 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 279 

suited to such an hour as this. I shall endeavor to atone for it 
by turning to a theme which tombs cannot inurn, or revolution 
alter. 

2. It is the custom of your board, and a noble one it is, to 
deck the cup of the gay with the garland of the great ; and, 
surely, even in the eyes of its deity, his grape is not the less 
lovely when glowing beneath the foliage of the palm tree and the 
myrtle. Allow me to add one flower to the chaplet, which, 
though it sprung in America, is no exotic. Virtue planted it, and 
it is naturalized everywhere. I see you anticipate me — I see you 
concur with me, that it matters very little what immediate spot 
may be the birth-place of such a man as Washington. 

3. No people can claim, no country can appropriate him ; 
the boon of Providence to the human race, his fame is eternity, 
and his residence creation. Though it was the defeat of our 
arms, and the disgrace of our policy, I almost bless the convul- 
sion in which he had his origin. If the heavens thundered and 
the earth rocked, yet, when the storm passed, how pure was 
the climate that it cleared ; how bright in the brow of the fir- 
mament was the planet which it revealed to us! 

4. In the production of Washington, it does really appear as 
if nature was endeavoring to improve upon herself, and that all 
the virtues of the ancient world were but so many studies pre- 
paratory to the patriot of the new. Individual instances no 
doubt there were — splendid exemplifications of some single 
qualification — Ccesar was merciful, Scipio was continent, Han- 
nibal was patient ; but it was reserved for Washington to blend 
them all in one, and like the lovely chef d'ceuvre of the Gre- 
cian artist, to exhibit in one glow of associated beauty, the 
pride of every model, and the perfection of every master. 

5. As a general, he marshaled the peasant into a veteran, 
and supplied by discipline the absence of experience ; as a 
statesman, he enlarged the policy of the cabinet into the most 
comprehensive system of general advantage; and such was the 



280 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

wisdom of his views, and the philosophy of his counsels, that 
to the soldier and the statesman, he almost added the character 
of the sage ! A conqueror, he was untainted with the crime 
of blood ; a revolutionist, he was free from any stain of trea- 
son ; for aggression commenced the contest, and his country 
called him to the command. Liberty unsheathed his sword, 
necessity stained, victory returned it. 

6. If he had paused here, history might have doubted what 
station to assign him ; whether at the head of her citizens or 
her soldiers, her heroes or her patriots. But the last glorious 
act crowns his career, and banishes all hesitation. Who, like 
Washington, after having emancipated a hemisphere, resigned 
its crown, and preferred the retirement of domestic life to the 
adoration of a land he might be almost said to have created ! 

" How shall we rant thee upon glory's page, 
Thou more than soldier and just less than sage ; 
All thou hast been reflects less fame on thee, 
Far less, than all thou hast forborne to be 1 " 

7. Such, sir, is the testimony of one not to be accused of par- 
tiality in his estimate of America. Happy, proud America ! 
the lightnings of heaven yielded to your philosophy ! The 
temptations of earth could not seduce your patriotism ! 



LESSON CXXIX. 

THE WRECK OF THE ARCTIC. 



H. W. BEKCIIEB. 



1. It was autumn. Hundreds had wended their way from 
pilgrimages; from Rome and its treasures of dead art, and its 
glory of living nature ; from the sides of the Switzer's moun- 
tains, from the capitals of various nations ; all of them saying 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 281 

in their hearts, we will wait for the September gales to have 
done with their equinoctial fury, and then we will embark ; we 
will slide across the appeased ocean, and in the gorgeous month 
of October, we will greet our longed-for native land, and our 
heart-loved homes. 

2. And so the throng streamed along from Berlin, from 
Paris, from the Orient, converging upon London, still hastening 
toward the welcome ship, and narrowing every day the circle 
of engagements and preparations. They crowded aboard. 
Never had the Arctic borne such a host of passengers, nor pas- 
sengers so nearly related to so many of us. 

3. The hour was come. The signal ball fell at Greenwich. 
It was noon also at Liverpool. The anchors were weighed ; 
the great Tmll swayed to the current ; the national colors streamed 
abroad, as if themselves instinct with life and national sympa- 
thy. The bell strikes ; the wheels revolve ; the signal gun 
beats its echoes in upon every structure along the shore, and the 
Arctic glides joyfully forth from the Mersey, and turns her prow 
to the winding channel, and begins her homeward run. The 
pilot stood at the wheel, and men saw him. Death sat upon the 
prow, and no eye beheld him. Whoever stood at the wheel 
in all the voyage, Death was the pilot that steered the craft, 
and none knew it. He neither revealed his presence nor whis- 
pered his errand. 

4. And so hope was effulgent, and lithe gayety disported it- 
self, and joy was with every guest. Amid all the inconvenien- 
cies of the voyage, there was still that which hushed every mur- 
mur — home is not far away. And every morning it was still 
one night nearer home, and at evening one day nearer home ! 
Eight days had passed. They beheld that distant bank of mist 
that forever haunts the vast shallows of Newfoundland. Boldly 
they made it, and plunging in, its pliant wreaths wrapped 
them about. They shall never emerge. The last sunlight has 
flashed from that deck. The last voyage is done to ship and 



282 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

passengers. At noon there came noiselessly stealing from the 
north that fated instrument of destruction. In that mysterious 
shroud, that vast atmosphere of mist, both steamers were 
holding their way with rushing prow and roaring wheels, but 
invisible. 

5. At a league's distance, unconscious, and at nearer approach 
unwarned ; within hail, and bearing right toward each other, 
unseen, unfelt, till in a moment more, emerging from the gray 
mists, the ill-omened Vesta dealt her deadly stroke to the Arctic. 
The death-blow was scarcely felt along the mighty hull. She 
neither reeled nor shivered. Neither commander nor officers 
deemed that they had suffered harm. Prompt upon human- 
ity, the brave Luce (let his name be ever spoken with admira- 
tion and respect,) ordered away his boat with the first officer 
to inquire if the stranger had suffered harm. As Gourley went 
over the ship's side, O that some good angel had called to the 
brave commander in the words of Paul on a like occasion, 
" except these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved." 

6. They departed, and with them the hope of the ship, for 
now the waters gaining upon the hold and rising up upon the 
fires, revealed the mortal blow. O, had now that stern, brave 
mate, Gourley, been on deck, whom the sailors were wont to 
mind — had he stood to execute efficiently the commander's will 
- — we may believe that we should not have to blush for the cow- 
ardice and recreancy 'of the crew, nor weep for the untimely 
dead. But, apparently, each subordinate officer lost all pres- 
ence of mind, then courage, and so honor. In a wild scramble, 
that ignoble mob of firemen, engineers, waiters and crew 
rushed for the boats, and abandoned the helpless women, chil- 
dren and men to the mercy of the deep ! Pour hours there 
were from the catastrophe of the collision to the catastrophe of 
sinking ! 

6. Oh, what a burial was here! Not as when one is borne 
from his home, among weeping throngs, and gently carried to 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 283 

the green-fields, and laid peacefully beneath the turf and the 
flowers. No priest stood to pronounce a burial service. It 
was an ocean grave. The mists alone shrouded the burial- 
place. No spade prepared the grave, nor sexton filled up the 
hollowed earth. Down, down they sank, and the quick return- 
ing waters smoothed out every ripple, and left the sea as if it had 
not been. 



LESSON CXXX. 

THE LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. 



1. There is, however, one subject connected with this trial, 
public in its nature, and universal in its interest, which imperi- 
ously calls for an exemplary verdict ; T mean the liberty of the 
press — a theme which I approach with mingled sensations of 
awe, and agony, and admiration. Considering all that we too 
fatally have seen — all that, perhaps, too fearfully we may have 
cause to apprehend, I feel myself cling to that residuary safe- 
guard, with an affection no temptation can seduce, with a sus- 
picion no anodyne can lull, with a fortitude that peril but in- 
furiates. 

2. In the direful retrospect of experimental despotism, and 
the hideous prospect of its possible reiinimation, I clasp it with 
the desperation of a widowed female, who, in the desolation of 
her house, and the destruction of her household, hurries the last 
of her offspring through the flames, at once the relic of her joy, 
the depository of her wealth, and the remembrancer of her 
happiness. It is the duty of us all to guard strictly this ines- 
timable privilege — a privilege which can never be destroyed, 
save by the licentiousness of those who willfully abuse it. 

3. No, it is not in the arrogance of power — no, it is not in 



284 



ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 



the artifices of law — no, it is not in the fatuity of princes — no, 
it is not in the venality of parliaments — -to crush this mighty, 
this majestic privilege ! Reviled, it will remonstrate ; mur- 
dered, it will revive ; buried, it will reascend. The very at- 
tempt at its oppression, will prove the truth of its immortality ; 
and the atom that presumed to spurn, will fade away before 
the trumpet of its retribution. Man holds it on the same 
principle that he does his soul : the powers of this world 
cannot prevail against it, it can only perish through its own 
depravity. 

4. What, then shall be his fate, through whose instrumen- 
tality it shall be sacrificed? Nay, more, what shall be his 
fate, who, intrusted with the guardianship of its security, be- 
comes the traitorous accessory to its ruin % Nay, more, what 
shall be his fate by whom its powers, delegated for the public 
good, are converted into the calamities of private virtue; 
against whom, industry denounced, merit undermined, morals 
calumniated, piety aspersed, all through the means confided for 
their protection, cry aloud for vengeance'? What shall be 
his fate 1 Oh, I would hold such a monster, so protected, so 
sanctified, and so sinning, as I would some demon, who, going 
forth, consecrated in the name of Deity, the book of life on his 
lips, and the dagger of death beneath his robe, awaits the sigh 
of piety as the signal of plunder, and unveins the heart's blood 
of confiding adoration. 



LESSON CXXXI. 

THE PUBLIC INFORMER. 

OtTRKAN. 



1. But the learned gentleman is further pleased to say, that 
the traverser has charged the government with the encourage- 
ment of informers. This, gentlemen, is another small fact that 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 285 

you are to deny at the hazard of your souls, and upon the so- 
lemnity of your oaths. You are upon your oaths to say to 
the sister country, that the government of Ireland uses no such 
abominable instruments of destruction as informers. Let me 
ask you honestly, what do you feel, when in my hearing, when 
in the face of this audience, you are called upon to give a ver- 
dict that every man of us, and every man of you, know by 
the testimony of your own eyes to be utterly and absolutely 
false? 

2. I speak not now of the public proclamation of informers, 
with a promise of secrecy and of extravagant reward ; I speak 
not of the fate of those horrid wretches who have been so often 
tranferred from the table to the dock, and from the dock to the 
pillory ; I speak of what your own eyes have seen day after 
day, during the course of this commission, from the box where 
you are now sitting ; the number of horrid miscreants who 
avowed upon their oaths that they had come from the very 
seat of government — from the castle, where they had been 
worked upon by the fear of death and the hopes of compensa- 
tion to give evidence against their fellows ; that the mild and 
wholesome councils of this government are holden over these 
catacombs of living death, where the wretch that is. buried a 
man, lies till his heart has time to fester and dissolve, and is 
then dug up a witness. 

3. Is this fancy, or is it fact? Have you not seen him, after 
his resurrection from that tomb, after having been dug out of 
the region of death and corruption, make his appearance upon 
the. table, the living image of life and of death, and the supreme 
arbiter of both ? Have you not marked when he entered, how 
the stormy wave of the multitude retired at his approach ? 
Have you not marked how the human heart bowed to the su- 
premacy of his power, in the undissembled homage of deferen- 
tial horror ? How his glance, like the lightning of heaven, 
seemed to rive the body of the accused, and mark it for the 



286 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

grave, while his voice warned the devoted wretch of woe and 
death ; a death which no innocence can escape, no art elude, 
no force resist, no antidote prevent. There was an antidote — 
a juror's oath : but even that adamantine chain, that bound the 
integrity of man to the throne of eternal justice, is solved and 
melted in the breath that issues from the informer's mouth ; 
conscience swings from her mooring, and the appalled and af- 
frighted juror consults his own safety in the surrender of the 
victim. 



LESSON CXXXU. 

IRISH EMANCIPATION. 



1. Thi3 paper, gentlemen, insists upon the necessity of eman- 
cipating the catholics of Ireland, and that is charged as a part 
of the libel. If they had waited another year, if they had kept 
this prosecution impending for another year, how much would 
remain for a jury to decide upon, I should be at a loss to dis- 
cover. It seems as if the progress of public information was 
eating away the ground of the prosecution. Since the com- 
mencement of the prosecution, this part of the libel has un- 
luckily received the sanction of the legislature. In that inter- 
val, our Catholic brethren have obtained that admission, which 
it seems was a libel to propose ; in what way to account for 
this, I am really at a loss. Have any alarms been occasioned 
by the emancipation of our Catholic brethren'? has the bigoted 
malignity of any individual been crushed 1 or has the stability 
of the government, or that of the country, been weakened 1 or 
is one million of subjects stronger than four millions? Do 
you think that the benefit they receive should be poisoned by 
the sting of vengeance ? 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 287 

2. If you think so, you must say to them, " You have de- 
manded emancipation and you have got it ; but we abhor your 
persons, we are outraged at your success, and we will stigma- 
tize, by a criminal prosecution, the adviser of that relief which 
you have obtained from the voice of your country." I ask 
you, do you think, as honest men, anxious for the public tran- 
quility, conscious that there are wounds not yet completely 
cicatrized, that you ought to speak this language at this time, 
to men who are too much disposed to think that in this very 
emancipation they have been saved from their own parliament 
by the humanity of their sovereign ? Or do you wish to pre- 
pare them for the revocation of these improvident concessions'? 
Do you think it wise or humane at this moment to insult them, 
by sticking up in a pillory the man who dared to stand forth 
as their advocate ? 

3. I put it to your oaths ; do you think that a blessing of 
that kind, that a victory obtained by justice over bigotry and 
oppression, should have a stigma cast upon it by an ignominious 
sentence upon men bold and honest enough to propose that 
measure 1 to propose the redeeming of religion from the abu- 
ses of the church, the reclaiming of three millions of men from 
bondage, and giving liberty to all who had a right to demand 
it — giving, I say, in the so much censured words of this paper, 
giving" universal emancipation !" 

4. I speak in the spirit of the British law, which makes lib- 
erty commensurate with and inseparable from British soil ; 
which proclaims even to the stranger and the sojourner, the 
moment he sets his foot upon British earth, that the ground on 
which he treads is holy, and consecrated by the genius of uni- 
versal emancipation. No matter in what language his doom 
may have been pronounced ; no matter what complexion in 
compatible with freedom an Indian or an African sun may 
have burnt upon him ; no matter in what disastrous battle hi? 
liberty may have been cloven down ; no matter with what so 



288 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

lemnities he may have been devoted upon the altar of slavery 
— the first moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the 
altar and the god sink together in the dust ; his soul walks 
abroad in her own majesty ; his body swells beyond the meas- 
ure of his chains, that burst from around him, and he stands 
redeemed, regenerated, and disenthralled, by the irresistible 
genius of universal emancipation. 



LESSON CXXXIII. 

CHURCH AND STATE. 



1. The theology of the question is not for me to argue, it 
cannot be in better hands than in those of your bishops ; and 
I can have no doubt that when they bring their rank, their 
learning, their talents, their piety, and their patriotism to this 
sublime deliberation, they will consult the dignity of that ven- 
erable fabric which has stood for ages, splendid and immuta- 
ble ; which time could not crumble, nor persecution shake, nor 
revolution change ; which has stood amongst us, like some stu- 
pendous and majestic Apennine, the earth rocking at its feet, 
and the heavens roaring round its head, firmly balanced on the 
base of its eternity ; the relic of what was ; the solemn and 
sublime memento of what must be. 

2. Is this my opinion as a professed member of the church 
of England % Undoubtedly it is. As an Irishman, I feel my 
liberties interwoven, and the best affections of my heart as it 
were enfibered with those of my Catholic countrymen ; and as a 
Protestant, convinced of the purity of my own faith, would I 
not debase it by postponing the powers of reason to the suspi- 
cious instrumentality of this world's conversion? No; sur- 
rendering as I do, with a proud contempt, all the degrading 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 289 

advantages with which an ecclesiastical usurpation would invest 
me ; so I will not interfere with a blasphemous intrusion be- 
tween any man and his Maker. 

3. I hold it a criminal and accursed sacrilege, to rob even a 
beggar of a single motive for his devotion ; and I hold it an 
equal insult to my own faith, to offer me any boon for its pro- 
fession. This pretended emancipation bill passing into a law, 
would, in my mind, strike not a blow at this sect or that sect, 
but at the very vitality of Christianity itself. I am thoroughly 
convinced that the antichristian connection between church and 
state, which it was suited to increase, has done more mischief 
to the gospel interest, than all the ravings of infidelity since the 
crucifixion. 

4. The sublime Creator of our blessed creed never meant 
it to be the channel of a courtly influence, or the source of a 
corrupt ascendency. He sent it amongst us to heal, not to 
irritate ; to associate, not to seclude ; to collect together, like 

• the baptismal dove, every creed and clime and color in the 
universe, beneath the spotless wing of its protection. The 
union of church and state only converts good christians into 
bad statesmen, and political knaves into pretended christians. 
It is at best but a foul and adulterous connection, polluting the 
purity of heaven with the abomination of earth, and hanging 
the tatters of a political piety upon the cross of an insulted 
Savior. 



LESSON CXXXIV. 

TEMPTATIONS OF LARGE CITIES. 

DEWEY. 

1. How many youth are there, alas ! and must we say of 
both sexes'? who came from their native hills, pure as the 
streams that gush forth at their side, and have found in our 
M 19 



290 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

city, allurement, enticement, pollution, poverty, disease, and 
premature death. Look at that young man, if, indeed, vice 
and misery have left him yet young ; look at him as he stands 
in the early morning, perhaps, at the entrance of some porter- 
house or grog-shop, pale, irresolute, destitute, friendless, not 
knowing where to go or what to do ; fix your eye, ay, and a 
compassionate eye, upon him for one moment, and I will tell 
you his histo*ry. 

2. A few years only have passed over him, since he was the 
cherished member of a happy country home. It was at that 
period that his own inclination, or family straits, led him to 
seek his fortune abroad in the world. What a moment is that, 
when the first great tie of nature is broken — the tie of home. 
The long pent-up and quiet tenderness of family affection swells 
in the eye of the mother, and trembles at her heart, as she 
busies herself with the little preparations necessary for the de- 
parture of her son ; her charge till now, from infancy. 

3. At length the day comes for him to bid adieu to the 
scenes of his early life. Amidst the blessings and prayers 
of kindred, with many precious words spoken to him, he turns 
away, himself moved to tears, .perhaps, as he catches the last 
glance of the holy roof of his childhood. He comes to the great 
city, and for a time, probably, all is well with him. Home is 
dear to his heart, and the words of parental caution and of sis- 
terly love are still in his ears ; and the new scenes seem strange 
and almost sad to him. But, left alone in the city throng, he 
must seek companions. 

4. And here, alas ! is his first great peril. Could he have 
been acquainted with but two or three virtuous and agreeable 
families with whom to pass his leisure hours, all might still 
have been well. But left to chance for his associates, chance 
is but too likely to provide him with associates that will tempt 
him to go astray. Their apparently honest wonder at his 
country simplicity, their ridicule of his fears, their jeers at his 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 291 

doubts and scruples, ere long wear off the first freshness of 
virtue. 

5. He consents, for experiment's sake, it may be, to take 
one step with his evil advisers. That step sets the seal of doom 
upon his whole after career. Now, and from henceforth, ev- 
ery step is downward — downward — downward — till, on earth, 
there is no lower point to reach. And what though for a while 
he maintain some outward decency ! What though he dress 
well and live luxuriously, and amass wealth to pamper his vices ! 
It is but a cloth of gold spread over the fatal gangrene, that is 
eating into his vitals, and his very heart! 

6. But, often, instead of that cloth of gold, are the rags of 
beggary, or the garb of the convict. Vice is expensive and 
wasteful. It wants means at the same time that it is losing 
credit. It must, without a rare fortune, descend to beggary or 
crime. How often does it find both mingled in its bitter cup ! 
How many are there in this city who have descended from the 
high places of honor and hope, to a degradation of which once 
they never dreamed as possible ! 

7. Alas! how sad is the contrast between what that man is, 
and what he once was ! But a little time ago, and he knew 
gentle nurture, and the music of kind words, and the holy se- 
renity of nature, and quiet rural labor ; the peace and plenty 
of a country home were around him ; and a mother's gentle 
tone, and a sister's kind voice, were in his ears ; and words of 
sweet and solemn prayer rose each morning and evening, per- 
haps, beneath the venerable roof where he dwelt ; and now — 
in the prison or the poor-house, or in some dwelling more des- 
olate, pent up with stifling filth and squalid w r retchedness, 
amidst oaths, and blows, and blasphemies, he is pursuing his 
dark and desperate way to a grave, that already yawns to re- 
ceive him ! 

8. And when he is buried — " his pale form shall not be laid 
with many tears " beneath the green fresh sod of his native 



292 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

fields ; but he hurried and huddled into some charnel-house, 
unwept, unhonored, unblessed, even there, " where the wicked 
cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." 



LESSON CXXXV. 

THE SWORD AND THE PRESS. 
CAELTLB. 

1. When Tamerlane had finished building his pyramid of 
seventy thousand human skulls, and was seen standing at the 
gate of Damascus, glittering in his steel, with his battle-ax on 
his shoulder, till his fierce hosts filed out to new victories and 
carnage, the pale looker-on might have fancied that Nature was 
in her death-throes ; for havoc and despair had taken possess- 
ion of the earth, and the sun of manhood seemed setting in a 
sea of blood. 

2. Yet it might be on that very gala-day of Tamerlane that 
a little boy was playing nine-pins in the streets of Mentz, 
whose history was more important than that of twenty Tamer- 
lanes. The Khan, with his shaggy demons of the wilderness, 
" passed away like a whirlwind," to be forgotten forever ; and 
that German artisan has wrought a benefit which is yet im- 
measurably expanding itself, and will continue to expand itself, 
through all countries and all times. 

3. What are the conquests and the expeditions of the whole 
corporation of captains, from Walter the Penniless, to Napo- 
leon Bonaparte, compared with those movable types of Faust? 
Truly it is a mortifying thing for your conqueror to reflect how 
perishable is the metal with which he hammers with such vio- 
lence ; how the kind earth will soon shroud up his bloody foot- 
prints ; and all that he achieved and skillfully piled together, 
will be but like his own canvas city of a camp — this evening 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 293 

loud with life, to-morrow all struck and vanished, — " a few pits 
and heaps of straw." 

4. For here, as always, it continues true, that the deepest 
force is the stillest ; that, as in the fable, the mild shining of the 
sun shall silently accomplish what the fierce blustering of the 
tempest in vain essayed. Above all, it is ever to be kept in 
mind, that not by material but by moral power are men and 
their actions to be governed. How noiseless is thought ! No 
rolling of drums, no tramp of squadrons, no tumult of innu- 
merable baggage-wagons attend its movements. 

5. In what obscure and sequestered places may the head be 
meditating which is one day to be crowned with more than im- 
perial authority ! for kings and emperors will be among its 
ministering servants ; it will rule not over, but in, all heads ; 
and with these solitary combinations of ideas, and with magic 
formulas, bend the world to its will. The time may come 
when Napoleon himself will be better known for his laws than 
his battles, and the victory of Waterloo prove less momentous 
than the opening of the first Mechanic's Institute. 



LESSON CXXXVI. 

WORTH MAKES THE MAN. 



1. That people are generally proud of their persons, is too 
visible and troublesome, especially if they have any pretense 
either to blood or beauty ; the one has raised many quarrels 
among men, and the other among women, and men too often, 
for their sakes, and at their excitements. But to the first : 
what a pother has this noble blood made in the world, anti- 
quity of name or family, whose father or mother, great-grand- 
father or great-grandmother, was best descended or allied 1 



294 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

'what stock or what clan they come of? what coat of arms they 
gave ? which had, of right, precedence % But, methinks, noth- 
ing of man's folly has less show of reason to palliate it. 

2. For, fir^t, what matter is it of whom any one is descended, 
that is not of ill fame, since 'tis his own virtue that must raise, 
or vice depress him % An ancestor's character is no excuse to 
a man's ill actions, but an aggravation of his degeneracy ; and 
since virtue comes not by generation, I neither am the better 
nor the worse for my forefather : to be sure, not in God's ac- 
count ; nor should it be in man's. Nobody would endure in- 
juries the easier, or reject favors the more, for coming by the 
hand of a man well or ill descended. I confess it were greater 
honor to have had no blots, and with an hereditary estate to 
have had a lineal descent of worth ; but that was never found, 
no, not in the most blessed of families upon the earth — I mean 
Abraham's. 

3. To be descended of wealth and titles fills no man's head 
with brains, or heart with truth ; those qualities come from a 
higher casse. Tis vanity, then, and most condemnable pride, 
for a man of bulk and character to despise another of less size 
in the world, and of meaner alliance, for want of them; be- 
cause the latter may have the merit, where the former has only 
the effects of it in an ancestor ; and though the one be great by 
means of a forefather, the other is so too, but 'tis by his own j 
then, pray, which is the bravest man of the two % 

4. No, let blood and name go together ;. but pray, let no- 
bility and virtue keep company, for they are nearest of kin. 
'Tis thus posited by God himself, that best knows how to ap- 
portion things with an equal and just hand. He neither likes 
nor dislikes by descent ; nor does he regard what people were, 
but are. He remembers not the righteousness of any man 
that leaves his righteousness, much less any unrighteous man 
for the righteousness of his ancestor. 

5. But if these men of blood please to think themselves 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL AND POETICAL. 295 

concerned to believe and reverence God in his holy scriptures, 
they may learn that in the beginning, he made of one blood all 
nations of men to dwell upon all the face of the earth ; and 
that we are descended of one father and mother — a more cer- 
tain original than the best of us can assign. From thence go 
down to Noah, who was the second planter of the human race, 
and we are upon some certainty for our forefathers. What vi- 
olence has rapt, or virtue merited since, and how far we that 
are alive are concerned in either, will be hard for us to deter- 
mine but a few ages off us. 

6. But, methinks, it should suffice to say, our own eyes see 
that men of blood, out of their gear and trappings, without 
their feathers and finery, have no more marks of honor by na- 
ture stamped upon them, than their inferior neighbors. Nay, 
themselves being judges, they will frankly tell us they feel all 
those passions in their blood that make them like other men, if 
not farther from the virtue that truly dignifies. The lamenta- 
ble ignorance and debauchery that now rages among too many 
of our greater sort of folks, is too clear and casting an evi- 
dence in the point ; and pray, tell me of what blood are they 
come 1 



LESSON CXXXVH. 

INFLUENCE OF INTERNAL IMPROVEMENTS. 

SEWAED. 

1. Nor can we forget that it was Msssachusetts that encoun- 
tered first and suffered most from the tyranny which resulted 
in our national independence ; that the first blood shed in that 
sacred cause flowed at Lexington, and that Liberty's earliest 
rampart was established upon Bunker's Hill. Nevertheless, 
the struggles and sacrifices of Massachusetts have, until -now, 



296 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

been known to us through traditions not her own, and seem to 
have been those of a distant, though an allied people; of a 
country separated from us by mountain barriers, such as divide 
every continent into states and empires. 

2. But what a change is here ! This morning's sun was just 
greeting the site of old Fort Orange as we took our leave, and 
now when he has scarcely reached the meridian, we have crossed 
that hitherto impassable barrier and met you here on the shore 
of the Connecticut, the battle ground of King Philip's cruel 
wars ; and, before that sun shall set, we might ascend the 
Heights of Charlestown, or rest upon the rock that was wet 
with the blood that flowed from the weary feet of the Pilgrim 
Fathers. 

3. Sir, you have well set forth the benefits which will result 
to you, to us, to our country, and to mankind, from the triumph 
of modern science over the physical obstructions to intercourse 
between the American communities. I can advert to but one 
of these results, the increasing strength of the states, and the 
perpetuity of the Union. New York, Massachusetts, and her 
sister states of New England, will no longer be merely confed- 
erate states. Their interests, their affections, and their sympa- 
thies will now be intermingled, and a common and indivisible 
destiny, whether of good or evil, awaits them all. 

4. Had such connections existed when the British throne at- 
tempted to abridge the rights of the colonies, what power could 
have wounded Massachusetts when New York could have 
rushed to her defense % Could Great Britain and her savage 
allies have scourged so severely our infant settlements upon the 
Mohawk and the Susquehannah, if New England could have 
gone to her relief? How vain will be any attempt hereafter to 
array us against each other ! Since Providence has been pleased 
to permit these states to be thus joined together, who shall put 
them asunder % 

5. Eightly have you assumed that on this occasion we in- 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 297 

dulge no jealousies of your prosperity, and no apprehensions 
of harm from your growing power or influence. The Hudson 
is beautiful in our eyes, for it flows through the land of our 
birth ; and our institutions and marts overhang its waters. But 
if its shores be not the true and proper seat of commerce and 
of empire, or if we have not the virtues and the energies ne- 
cessary to retain our vantage-ground, we shall not try to check 
the prosperity or the political ascendency of our sister states. 

6. Far from indulging such unworthy thoughts, we regard 
this and every other improvement as calculated to promote our 
own prosperity, and what is far more important than the ad- 
vancement of our state or of yours, the union and harmony 
of the whole American family. The bond that brings us 
into so close connection, is capable of being extended from your 
coast to the Mississippi, and of being fastened around not only 
New York and the first thirteen, but all the twenty-six states. 
This is the policy of New York and her ambition. We re- 
joice in your cooperation, and invite its continuance, until 
alarms of disunion shall be among the obsolete dangers of the 
republic. 

7. New York has been addressed here in language of mag- 
nanimity. It would not become me to speak of her position, 
her resources, or her influence. And yet I may, without of- 
fending the delicacy of her representatives here, and of her peo- 
ple at home, claim that she is not altogether unworthy of ad- 
miration. Our mountains, cataracts, and lakes, cannot be sur- 
veyed without lifting the soul on high. Our metropolis and 
our inland cities, our canals and railroads, our colleges and 
schools, and our twelve thousand libraries, evince emulation, 
and a desire to promote the welfare of our country, the pro- 
gress of civilization, and the happiness of mankind. 

8. While we acknowledge that it was your Warren that of- 
fered up his life at Charlestown, your Adams and your Hancock 
who were the proscribed leaders in the revolution, and your 



298 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Franklin, whose wisdom swayed its councils, we cannot forget 
that Ticonderoga and Saratoga are within our borders ; that it 
was a son of New York that fell in scaling the Heights of Abra- 
ham ; that another shaped every pillar of the constitution, and 
twined the evergreen around its capital ; that our Fulton sent 
forth the mighty mechanical agent that is revolutionizing the 
world, and that but for our Clinton, his lofty genius and un- 
daunted perseverance, the events of this day and all its joyous 
anticipations, had slept together in the womb of futurity. 

9. The grandeur of this occasion oppresses me. It is not as 
some have supposed, the first time that states have met. On 
many occasions, in all ages, states, nations and empires have 
come together ; but the trumpet heralded their approach ; they 
met in the shock of war ; one or the other sunk to rise no more, 
and desolation marked for the warning of mankind, the scene 
of the fearful encounter. And if sometimes chivalry asked an 
armistice, it was but to light up with evanescent smiles the stern 
visage of war. How different is this scene ! Here are no con- 
tending hosts, no destructive engines, nor the terrors, nor even 
the pomp of war. Not a helmet, sword or plume is seen in 
all this vast assemblage. 

10. Nor is this a hollow truce between contending states. 
We are not here upon a cloth of gold and under a silken can- 
opy to practice deceitful courtesies, nor in an amphitheater, with 
jousts and tournaments, to make trial of skill in arms prepara- 
tory to a fatal conflict. We have come here enlightened and 
fraternal states, without pageantry, or even insignia of power, 
to renew pledges of fidelity, and to cultivate affection and all 
the arts of peace. Well ' may our sister states look upon the 
scene with favor, and the nations of the earth draw from it good 
auguries of universal and perpetual peace. 



RHETORICAL, CLASSICAL, AND POETICAL. 299 

LESSON CXXXVIH. 

SPECIMEN OF THE ELOQUENCE OF JAMES OTIS. 

1. England may as well dam up the waters of the Nile with 
bulrushes as to fetter the step of freedom, more proud and firm 
in this youthful land, than where she treads the sequestered glens 
of Scotland, or couches herself among the magnificent moun- 
tains of Switzerland, i^rbitrary principles, like those against 
which we now contend, have cost one king of England his life 
— another his crown — and they may yet cost a third his most 
flourishing colonies. 

2. We are two millions — one-fifth fighting men. We are 
bold and vigorous, and w r e call no man master. To the nation 
from whom we are proud to derive our origin, we were ever, 
and we ever will be, ready to yield unforced assistance ; but it 
must not, and it never can be extorted. 

3. Some have sneeringly asked, " xire the Americans too 
poor to pay a few pounds on stamped paper % " No ! Amer- 
ica, thanks to God and herself, is rich. But the right to take 
ten pounds, implies the right to take a thousand ; and what 
must be the wealth, that avarice, aided by power, cannot exhaust. 
True, the specter is now small ; but the shadow he casts before 
him is huge enough to darken all this fair land. Others, in sen- 
timental style, talk of the immense debt of gratitude which 
we owe to England. And what is the amount of this debt % 
Why, truly, it is the same that the young lion owes to the dam, 
which has brought it forth on the solitude of the mountain, or 
left it amid the winds and storms of the desert. 

4. We plunged into the wave, w T ith the great charter of free- 
dom in our teeth, because the fagot and torch were behind us, 
We have waked this new world from its savage lethargy ; for- 
ests have been prostrated in our path ; towns and cities have 
grown up suddenly as the flowers of the tropics and the fires 



300 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

in our autumnal woods are scarcely more rapid than the in- 
crease of our wealth and population. And do we owe all this 
to the kind succor of the mother country 1 No ! we owe it 
to the tyranny that drove us from her — to the pelting storms 
which invigorated our helpless infancy. 

5. But perhaps others will say, " We ask no money from 
your gratitude. — we only demand that you should pay your 
own expenses." And who, I pray, is to judge of their neces- 
sity % Why, the king — (and with all due reference to his sa- 
cred majesty, he understands the real wants of his distant sub- 
jects as little as he does the language of the Choctaws.) Who 
is to judge concerning the frequency of these demands ? The 
ministry. Who is to judge whether the money is properly 
expended ? The cabinet behind the throne. In every instance 
those who take are to judge for those who pay. If this system 
is suffered to go into operation, we shall have reason to es- 
teem it a great privilege, that rain and dew do not depend 
upon parliament j otherwise they would soon be taxed and 
dried. 

6. But thanks to God, there is freedom enough left upon 
earth to resist such monstrous injustice. The flame of liberty 
is extinguished in Greece and Rome, but the light of its glow- 
ing embers is still bright and strong on the shores of America. 
Actuated by its sacred influence, we will resist unto death. 
But we will not countenance anarchy and misrule. The wrongs 
that a desperate community have heaped upon their enemies, 
shall be amply and speedily repaired. Still, it may be well 
for some proud men to remember, that a fire is lighted in these 
colonies, which one breath of their king may kindle into such 
fury, that the blood of all England cannot extinguish it. 



PART III, 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 



LESSON X 

THE WHISKERS, OR POWER OP FASHION. 

WOODWOKTH. 

1. The kings who rule mankind with haughty sway, 
The prouder pope, whom even kings obey — 
Love, at whose shrine both popes and monarchs fall, 
And e'en self interest, that controls them all — 
Possess a petty power when all combined, 
Compared with fashion's influence on mankind ! 
For love itself will oft to fashion bow ; 
The following story will convince you how : 

2. A petit maitre wooed a fair, 

Of virtue, wealth, and graces rare ; 
But vainly had preferred his claim, 
The maiden owned no answering flame ; 
At length by doubt and- anguish torn, 
Suspense, too painful to be borne, 
Low at her feet he humbly kneeled, 
And thus his ardent flame revealed : 



302 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

3. Pity my grief, angelic fair, 

Behold my anguish and despair ; 
For you this heart must ever burn — 
O, bless me with a kind return ; 
My love no language can express, 
Reward it then, with happiness ; 
Nothing on earth, but you, I prize, 
All else is trifling in my eyes ; 
And cheerfully would I resign 
The wealth of worlds, to call you mine. 
But, if another gain your hand, 
Far distant from my native land, 
Far hence from you and hope I'll fly, 
And in some foreign region die." 

4 The virgin heard, and thus replied : 
" If my consent to be your bride 
Will make you happy, then be blest ; 
But grant me, first, one small request ; 
A sacrifice I must demand, 
And in return, will give my hand." 

5. " A sacrifice ! O speak its name, 
For you I'd forfeit wealth and fame ; 
Take my whole fortune — every cent — " 

" 'Twas something more than wealth I meant." 

" Must I the realms of Neptune trace ? 

O, speak the word — where'er the place, 

For you, the idol of my soul, 

I'd e'en explore the frozen pole ; 

Arabia's sandy desert tread, 

Or trace the Tigris to its head." 

6. no, dear sir, I do not ask, 

So long a voyage, so hard a task ; 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 803 

You must — for ah ! the boon I want, 
I have no hope that you will grant." 
" Shall I, like Bonaparte, aspire 
To be the world's imperial sire % 
Express the wish, and here I vow, 
To place a crown upon your brow." 

7. "Sir, these are trifles" — she replied — 
" But, if you wish me for your bride, 
You must — but still I fear to speak — 
You'll never grant the boon I seek." 
"O say ! " he cried — " dear angel, say — 
"What must I do, and I obey ; 
No longer rack me with suspense, • 
Speak your commands, and send me hence." 

8 " Well, then, dear generous youth ! " she cries? 
" If thus my heart you really prize, 
And wish to link your fate with mine, 
On one condition I am thine : 
'Twill then become my pleasing duty, 
To contemplate a husband's beauty ; 
And, gazing on his manly face, 
His feelings and his wishes trace ; 
To banish thence each mark of care, 
And light a smile of pleasure there. 
O let me then, 'tis all I ask, 
Commence at once the pleasing task ; 
O let me, as becomes my place, 
Cut those huge whiskers from your face." 

9. She said — but O, what strange surprise 
Was pictured in her lover's eyes ! 
Like lightning, from the ground he sprung, 
While wild amazement tied his tongue. 



304 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

A statue, motionless he gazed, 
Astonished, horror-struck, amazed ! 
So looked the gallant Perseus, when 
Medusa's visage met his ken ; 
So looked Macbeth, whose guilty eye 
Discerned an air-drawn dagger nigh ; 
And so the prince of Denmark stared, 
When first his father's ghost appeared. 

10. At length our hero silence broke, 
And thus in wildest accents spoke : 
" Cut off my whiskers ! O ye gods ! 
I'd sooner lose my ears, by odds ; 
Madam, I'd not be so disgraced, 
So lost to fashion and to taste, 
To win an empress to my arms, 
Though blest with more than mortal charms. 
My whiskers ! Zounds ! " He said no more, 
But quick retreated through the door, 
And sought a less obdurate fair, 
To take the beau with all his hair. 



LESSON II. 

THE QUIET MR. SMITH. 

FANNY FERN. 

" What a quiet man your husband is, Mrs Smith." 

1. Quiet ! a snail is an " express train " to him ! If the top 
of this house should blow off, he'd just sit still and spread his 
umbrella ! He's a regular pussy-cat. Comes into the front 
door as though the entry was paved with eggs, and sits down 
in his chair as if there was a nest of kittens under the cushion. 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 305 

He'll be the death of me yet. I read him all the horrid acci- 
dents, dreadful collisions, murders and explosions, and he takes 
it just easy as if I was saying the ten commandments. 

2. He is never astonished, or startled, or delighted. If a 
cannon-ball should come through that window, he would'nt move 
an eye-lash. If I should make the voyage of the world, and 
return some fine day, he'd take off his spectacles, put them in 
the case, fold up the newspaper, and setttle his dickey, be- 
fore he'd be ready to say, " Good morning, Mrs. Smith." If 
he'd been born of a poppy he could'nt be more soporific. 

3. I wonder if all the Smiths are like him. When Adam 
got tired of naming his numerous descendants, he said, " Let all 
the rest be called Smith ! " Well, I don't care for that, but he 
ought to have known better than to call my husband Abel 
Smith. Do you suppose, if I were a man, I would let a wo- 
man support me ? Where do you think Abel's coats, and cra- 
vats, and canes, and cigars, come from ? Out of my brain ! 
" Quiet ! " — it's perfectly refreshing to me to hear of a comet, 
or see a locomotive, or look at a streak of chain-lightning ! I 
tell you he is the expressed essence of chloroform. 



LESSON III. 

CAUDLEOLOGY. 



1. Well, that's the third umbrella gone since Christmas. 
What were you to do 1 Why, let him go home in the rain, 
to be sure. I am very certain he would'nt spoil. Take cold in- 
deed? He doesn't look like one of the sort to take cold. 
Besides, he'd have better taken cold than taken our umbrella. 
I 2. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle % I say, do you hear 
the rain % And, as I'm alive, if it is'nt St. Swithin's day ! Do 

20 



306 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

ycu hear it against the windows % Nonsense ! you don't inv 
pose upon me; you can't be asleep with such a shower as that. 
Do you hear it, I say 1 O, you do hear it ! Well, that's a 
pretty flood, I think, to last for six weeks ; and no stirring all 
the time out of the house. Pooh! don't think me a fool, 
Mr. Caudle ; don't insult me ; he return the umbrella ! Any- 
body would think you were born yesterday. As if anybody 
ever did return an umbrella! 

3. There, do you hear it % Worse and worse. Cats and 
dogs, and for six weeks : always six weeks ; and no umbrella. 
I should like to know how the children are to go to school to- 
morrow. They shan't go through such weather ; I am deter- 
mined. No, they shall stop at home and never learn anything, 
(the blessed creatures,) sooner than go and get wet. And when 
they grow up, I wonder who they'll have to thank for knowing 
nothing ; who, indeed, but their father 1 People who can't feel 
for their own children ought never to be fathers. 

4. But I know why you lent the umbrella ; oh, yes, I know 
very well. I was going out to tea at dear mother's to-mor- 
row ; you knew that, and you did it on purpose. Don't tell 
me ! you hate to have me go there, and take every mean ad- 
vantage to hinder me. But don't you think it, Mr. Caudle ; 
no, sir; if it comes down in buckets full, I'll go all the more. 
No, and I won't have a cab ! Where do you think the money's 
to come from 1 You've got nice high notions at that club of 
yours ! 

5. A cab, indeed ! Cost me sixteen -pence, at least. Six- 
teen-pence ! two-and-eight-pence : for there's back again. Cabs, 
indeed ! I should like to know who's to pay for 'em ; for I'm 
sure you can't, if you go on as you do, throwing away your 
property, and beggaring your children, buying umbrellas ! 

C. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle 1 I say do you hear 
it? But I don't care — I'll go to mother's to-morrow — I 
will ; and what's more, I'll walk every step of the way ; and 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 307 

you know that will give me my death. Don't call me a fool- 
ish woman ; it's you that's the foolish man. 

7. You know I can't wear clogs ; and with no umbrella, the 
wet's sure to give me a cold ; it always does ; but what do you 
care for that ? Nothing at all. I may be laid up, for what 
you care, as I dare say I shall ; and a pretty doctor's bill 
there'll be. I hope there will. It will teach you to lend your 
umbrellas again. I should'nt wonder if I caught my death ; 
yes, and that's what you lent the umbrella for. Of course. 

8. Nice clothes I get, too, traipsing through weather like 
this. My gown and bonnet will be spoiled quite. Needn't 
wear 'em then % Indeed, Mr. Caudle, I shall wear 'em. No, 
sir ; I'm not going out a dowdy, to please you, or anybody 
else. Gracious knows ! it is'nt often that I step over the thresh- 
hold ; indeed, I might as well be a slave at once ; better, I 
should say ; but when I do go out, Mr. Caudle, I choose to go 
as a lady. 

9. O, that rain — if it is't enough to break in the windows ! 
Ugh ! I look forward with dread for to-morrow. How I am 
to go to mother's, I am sure I can't tell ; but if I die, I'il do it. 
No, sir ; I won't borrow an umbrella — no, and you shan't buy 
one. Mr. Caudle, if you bring home another umbrella, 111 
throw it into the street. Ha ! and it was only last week, I 
had a new nozzle put to that umbrella. I'm sure if I'd have 
known as much as I do now, it might have gone without one. 
Paying for new nozzles for other people to laugh at you ! 

10. O, it's all very well for you ; you can go to sleep. 
You've no thought of your poor, patient wife, and your own 
dear children ; you think of nothing but lending umbrellas ! 
Men, indeed ! — call themselves lords of the creation ! pretty 
lords, when they can't even take care of an umbrella ! 

11. I know that walk to-morrow will be the death of me. 
But that's what you want ; then you may go to your club, and 
do as you like ; and then nicely my poor, dear children will be 



308 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

used — but then, sir, then you'll be happy. Yes, when your 
poor, patient wife is dead and gone, then you'll marry that 
mean little widow Quilp, I know you will. 



LESSON IV. 

PLEADING AT THE BAR. 

LAFAYETTE BIGELOW PARTINGTON, ESQ. 

1. May it please the court — Gentlemen of the Jury — 
You sit in that box as the great reservoir of Roman liberty, 
Spartan fame, and Grecian polytheism. You are to swing the 
great flail of justice and electricity over this immense commu- 
nity, in hydraulic majesty, and conjugal superfluity. You 
are the great triumphal arch on which evaporates the even 
scales of justice and numerical computation. You are to as- 
cend the deep arcana of nature, and dispose of my client with 
equiponderating concatenation, in reference to his future velo- 
city and reverberating momentum. 

2. Such is your sedative and stimulating character. My cli- 
ent is only a man of domestic eccentricity and matrimonial 
configuration, not permitted, as you are, gentlemen, to walk in 
the primeval and lowest vales of society, but he has to endure 
the red-hot sun of the universe, on the heights of nobility and 
feudal eminence. He has a beautiful wife of horticultural pro- 
pensities, that hen-pecks the remainder of his days with sooth- 
ing and bewitching verbosity, that makes the nectar of his pan- 
demonium as cool as Tartarus. 

3. He ha£ a family of domestic children, that gather around 
the fireplace of his peaceful homicide in tumultitudinous con- 
sanguinity, and cry with screaming and rebounding pertinacity 
for bread, butter, and molasses. Such is the glowing and over- 
whelming character and defeasance of my client, who stands 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 30$ 

convicted before this court of oyer, terminer, and lex non scripta, 
by the persecuting pettifogger of this court, who is as much 
exterior. to me as I am interior to the judge, and you, gentle- 
men of the jury. 

4. This Borax of the law here, has brought witnesses into 
this court, who swear that my client stole a firkin of butter. 
Now, I say, every one of them swore to a lie, and the truth is 
concentrated within them. But if it is so, I justify the act on 
the ground that the butter was necessary for a public good, to 
tune his family into harmonious discord. But I take other 
mountainous and absquatulated grounds on this trial, and move 
that a quash be laid upon this indictment. 

5. Now, I will prove this by a learned expectoration of the 
principle of the law. Now butter is made of grass, and it is 
laid down by St. Peter Pinder, in his principle of subterrane- 
ous law, that grass is conchant and levant, which in our obic- 
ular tongue means that grass is of a mild and free ll^ure ; con- 
sequently, my client had a right to grass and butter both. 

6. To prove my second great principle, " let facts be submit- 
ted to a candid world." Now butter is grease, and Greece is 
a foreign country, situated in the emaciated regions of Liberia 
and California ; consequently my client cannot be tried in this 
horizon, and is out of the benediction of this court. I will now 
bring forward the ultimatum respondentia, and cap the great 
climax of logic, by. quoting an inconceivable principle of law, 
as laid down in Latin, by Pothier, Hudibras, Blackstone, Han- 
nibal, and Sangrado. It is thus : Haec hoc morus multicaulis, 
amensa at thoro, ruta baga centum. Which means in English, 
that ninety-nine men are guilty where one is innocent. 

7. Now, it is your duty to convict ninety-nine men first ; then 
you come to my client, who is innocent and acquitted accord- 
ing to law. If these great principles shall be duly depreciated 
in this court, then the great north pole of liberty, that has stood 
so many years in pneumatic tallness, shading the republican re- 



310 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

gions of commerce and agriculture, will stand the wreck of the 
Spanish inquisition, the pirates of the hyperborean seas, and the 
marauders of the Aurora Bolivar ! But, gentlemen of the 
jury, if you convict my client, his children will be doomed to 
pine away in a state of hopeless matrimony ; and his beautiful 
wife will stand lone and delighted, like a dried up mullain- 
stalk in a sheep -pasture. 



LESSON V. 

PHAETHON, OR THE AMATEUR COACHMAN. 
JOIItf G. SAXB. 

1. Dan Phaethon, — so the histories run, — 

"Was a jolly young chap, and a son of the Sun ; 
Or rather of Phoebus, — but as to his mother, 
Genealogists make a deuce of a pother, 
Some going for one, and some for another ! 
For myself, I must say as a careful explorer, 
This roaring young blade was the son of Aurora. 

2. Now old Father Phoebus, ere railways begun 
To elevate funds and depreciate fun, 

Drove a very fast coach by the name of " The Sun j " 

Running, they say, 

Trips every day, 
(On Sundays and all, in a heathenish way,) 
All lighted up with a famous array 
Of lanterns that shone with a brilliant display, 
And dashing along like a gentleman's "shay," 
With never a fare, and nothing to pay ! 
Now Phaethon begged of his doting old father, 
To grant him a favor, and this the rather, 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 31! 

Since some one had hinted, the youth to annoy, 
That he wasn't by any means Phcebus's boy ! 
Intending, the rascally son of a gun, 
To darken the brow of the son of the Sun ! 

3. " By the terrible Styx ! " said the angry sire, 
While his eye flashed volumes of fury and fire, 
" To prove your reviler an infamous liar, 

I swear I will grant you whate'er you desire ! " 

"Then by my head," 

The youngster said, 
" I'll mount the coach when the horses are fed !— 
For there's nothing I'd choose, as I'm alive, 
Like a seat on the box, and a dashing drive ! " 

" Nay Phaethon don't — - 

I beg you won't, — 
Just stop a moment and think upon't! 

4. " You're quite too young," continued the sage, 
K To tend a coach at your early age ! 

Besides, you see, 

'Twill really be 
Your first appearance on any stage ! 

Desist, my child, 

The cattle are wiH, 
And when their mettle is thoroughly ' riled,' 
Depend upon't, the coach will be ' spiled ' — 
They're not the fellows to draw it mild! 

Desist, 1 say, 

You'll rue the day, — 
So mind and don't be foolish, Pha!" 

But the youth was proud, 

And swore aloud, 
'Tvvas just the thing to astonish the crowd, — 
He'd have the horses and wouldn't be cowed ! 



312 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

5. In vain the boy was cautioned at large, 

He called for the chargers, unheeding the charge, 
And vowed that any young fellow of force, 
Could manage a dozen coursers, of course ! 
Now Phoebus felt exceedingly sorry 
He had given his word in such a hurry, 
But having sworn by the Styx, no doubt 
He was in for it now, and could'nt back out. 

6. So calling Phaethon up in a trice, 
He gave the youth a bit of advice : — 

" Farce stimulis, utere loris ? " 
(A " stage direction," of which the core is, 
Don't use the whip, — they're ticklish things — 
But, whatever you do, hold on to the strings !) 
Eemember the rule of the Jehu tribe is, 

" Medio tutissimus ibis" 
As the judge remarked to a rowdy Scotchman, 
(Who was going to quod between two watchmen !) 
So mind your eye and spare your goad, 
Be shy of the stones, and keep in the road ! 

7. Now Phaethon, perched in the coachman's place, 
Drove off the steeds at a furious pace, 

Fast as coursers running a race, 

Or bounding along in a steeple chase ! 

Of whip and shout there was no lack, 

" Crack — whack — 

Whack — crack," 
Resounding along the horses' back ! — 
Frightened beneath the stinging lash, 
Cutting their flanks in many a gash. 

8. On — on they sped as swift as a flash, 
Through thick and thin away they dash, 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 

(Such rapid driving is always rash !) 
When all at once, with a dreadful crash, 
The whole establishment went to smash ! 

And Phaethon, he, 

As all agree, 
Off the coach was suddenly hurled, 
Into a puddle, and out of the world ! 

MORAL. 

Don't rashly take to dangerous courses, — 
Nor set it down in your table of forces, 
That any one man equals any four horses ! 
Don't swear by the Styx ! — 
It's one of Old Nick's 
Diabolical tricks 
To get people into a regular " fix," 
And hold 'em there as fast as bricks ! 



LESSON VI. 



HODGE AND THE VICAR. 



ANONYMOUS. 



Hodge, a poor, honest, lazy lout, 
Not over-stocked with learning, 

Chanced, on a summer's eve, to meet, 
The vicar home returning. 

" Ah ! master Hodge," the vicar cried, 
" What, still as wise as ever % 

The people in the village say 
That you are wondrous clever." 
N 



314 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

3. " AVhy, master parson, as to that 

I beg you'll right conceive me, 
I do na' brag, but yet I know 
A thing or two, believe me." 

4. " We'll try your skill," the parson cried, 

" For learning what digestion : 
And this you'll prove, or right or wrong, 
By solving me a question : 

5. " Noah of old three babies had, 

Or grown-up children rather ; 
Shern, Ham, and Japhet, they were called : 
Now, who was Japhet' s father ? " 

6. " Rat it ! " cried Hodge, and scratched his head, 

" That does my wits belabor : 
But howsomde'er I'll homeward run, 
And ax old Giles, my neighbor." 

7. To Giles he went, and put the case 

With circumspect intention : 
" Thou fool ! " cried Giles, " I'll make it clear 
To thy dull comprehension. 

8. "Three children has Tom Long, the smith, 

Or cattle-doctor, rather ; 
Tom, Dick, and Harry, they arc called : 
Now, who is Harry's father?" 

0. "Adzooks! I have it," Hodge replied, 
" Right well 1 know your lingo ; 
Who's Harry's father'? stop — here goes — 
Why Tom Long Smith, by jingo." 

10. Away he ran to find the priest 
With all his might and main, 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 315 

Who with good humor instant put 
The question once again. 

11. "Noah of old three babies had, 

Or grown-up children rather ; 
Shem, Ham, and Japhet, they were called : 
Now, who was Japhet's father ? " 

12. "I have it now," Hodge grinning cried, 

" I'll answer like a proctor ; 
Who's Japhet's father ? now I know ; 
Why, Tom Long Smith, the doctor ! " 



LESSON VII. 

LOVE, MURDER, AND MATRIMONY ALMOST. 

AXOXTMOUS. 

1. In Manchester a maiden dwelt, 

Her name was Phcebe Brown, 
Her cheeks were red, her hair was black, 

And she was considered by good judges to be by 
all odds the best looking girl in town. 

2. Her age was nearly seventeen, 

Her eyes were sparkling bright, 
A very lovely girl she was, 

And for about a year and a half there had been a 
young man paying his attention to her by the name of Reuben 
Wright. 

3. Now Reuben was a nice young man 

As any in the town, 
And Phcebe loved him very dear, 

But, on account of his being obliged to work for a 
living, he never could make himself agreeable to old Mr. and 
Mrs. Brown. 



316 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

4. Her parents were resolved 

Another she should wed, 
A rich old miser in the place, 

And old Brown frequently declared, that rather 
than have his daughter marry Reuben Wright, he'd sooner 
knock him in the head. 

5. But Phoebe's heart was brave and strong, 

She feared not her parent's frowns, 
And as for Reuben Wright so bold, 

I've heard him say more than fifty times that, (with 
the exception of Phoebe,) he didn't care a cent for the whole 
race of Browns. 

6. So Phoebe Brown and Reuben Wright 

Determined they would marry ; 
Three weeks ago last Tuesday night, 

They started for old Parson Webster's, determined 
to be united in the holy bonds of matrimony, though it was 
tremendous dark, and rained like the old Harry. 

7. But Captain Brown was wide awake, 

He loaded up his gun, 
And then pursued the loving pair ; 

He overtook 'em when they'd got about half way 
to the Parson's, and then Reuben and Phoebe started off upon 
the run. 

8. Old Brown then took a deadly aim 

Toward young Reuben's head, 
But, oh ! it was a bleeding shame, 

He made a mistake, and shot his only daughter, 
and had the unspeakable anguish of seeing her drop right down 
stone dead. 

9. Then anguish filled young Reuben's heart, 

And vengeance crazed his brain. 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 317 

He drew an awful jack-knife out, 

And plunged it into old Brown about fifty or sixty 
times, so that it's very doubtful about his ever coming to again. 

10. The briny drops from Reuben's eyes 
In torrents poured down, 
He yielded up the ghost and died, 

And in this melancholy and heart-rending manner 
terminates the history of Reuben and Phoebe, and likewise old 
Captain Brown. 



LESSON VIII. 



THE MODERN BELLE. 



1. She sits in a fashionable parlor, 

And rocks in her easy chair ; 
She is clad in silks and satins, 

And jewels are hi her hair ; 
She winks, and giggles, and simpers, 

And simpers, and giggles, and winks, 
And though she talks but little, 

'Tis a good deal more than she thinks. 

2. She lies a-bed in the morning, 

Till nearly the hour of noon, 
Then comes down snapping and snarling, 

Because she was called so soon! 
Her hair is still in papers, 

Her cheeks still fresh with paint ; 
Remains of her last night's blushes, 

Before she intended to faint. 



318 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

3. She doats upon men unshaven, 

And men with "flowing hair," 
She's eloquent over mustaches, 

They give such a foreign air ! 
She talks of Italian music, 

And falls in love with the moon, 
And if a mouse were to meet her, 

She would sink away in a swoon. 

4. Her feet are so very little, 

Her hands are so very white, 
Her jewels so very heavy, 

And her head so very light ; 
Her color is made of cosmetics, 

(Though this she will never own,) 
Her body's made mostly of cotton, 

Her heart is made wholly of stone. 

5. She falls in love with a fellow, 

Who swells with a foreign air ; 
He marries her for her money, 

She marries him for his — hair ! 
One of the very best matches — 

Both are well mated in life ; 
She's got a fool for a husband, 

He's got a fool for a wife ! " 



LESSON IX. 

AN OLD MAID'S DECISION. 

FANNY FERN. 

1. There she is, a poor, lone spinster, in a nicely furnished 
room — sofa big enough for two ; two arm chairs, two bureaus, 
two looking glasses — everything hunting in couples except her- 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. $19 

self! I don't wonder she's frantic. She read in her childhood 
that " matches were made in heaven," and although she 's well 
aware there are some lucifer matches, yet she has never had a 
chance to try either sort. She has heard that there ''never 
was a soul created, but its twin was made somewhere," and 
she's a melancholy proof that 'tis a mocking lie. 

2. She gets tired sewing — she can't knit forever on that eter- 
nal stocking — (besides, that has a fellow to it, and is only an 
aggravation to her feelings.) She has read till her eyes are 
half blind, — there's nobody to agree with her if she likes the 
book, or argue the point with her if she don't. If she goes out 
to walk, every woman she meets has her husband's arm.' To 
be sure, half of 'em are ready to scratch each other's eyes out; 
but that's a little business matter between themselves. 

3. Suppose she feels devotional, and goes to evening lectures, 
some ruffiainly coward is sure to scare her to death on the way. 
If she takes a journey, she gets hustled and boxed round among 
cab-drivers, and porters, and baggage-masters; her band-box 
gets knocked in, her trunk gets knocked off, and she's landed 
at the wrong stopping place. 

4. If she wants a load of wood, she has to pay twice as much 
as a man would, and then she gets cheated by the man that 
saws and splits it. She has to put her own money into the 
bank and get it out, hire her own pew, and wait upon herself 
into it. People tell her " husbands are ofcen great plagues," 
but she knows there are times when they are indispensable. 
She is very good looking, black hair and eyes, tine figure, sings 
and plays beautifully, " but she can't be an old maid, and what's 
more — she won't." 



320 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON X. 

SOUR GRAPES. 
ANONYMOtTS. 

1. My love, thou'rt fairer than the dawn 

Of April's brightest day, 
And the beauty of thy cheek outvies 
The loveliest tints of May ! 

2. The odoriferous perfumes 

That load the spicy gale, 
To thy sweet, life-inspiring breath. 
Are virtueless, and stale. 

3. O, how enchantingly around 

That polished neck of thine, 
Those artless raven- tresses bright, 
In glossy ringlets twine ! 

4. And then they wave so feelingly 

O'er fields of purest pearl, 
Ten thousand beauties sport around 
Each captivating curl ! 

5. Those eyes, do turn them, dear, away 

So ravishingly they roll, 
Those sun-eclipsing diamonds, 
They pierce my inmost soul. 

6. Those lips, how do they sparkle forth 

The ruby's brightest glow, 
And thy neck outshines in purity 
The winter's drifted snow ! 

7. Thy voice, O how divinely sweet, 

'Tis like the seraph's note, 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 321 

And, fairy-like, an angel form 
Seems in the air to float. 

8. Words cannot tell, nor thought can dream 

The pangs I undergo 
For thee — and wilt thou not be mine 
My lovely angel ! No ! 

9. Zounds ! you red-haired, freckled thing — 

You garlic-breathed old maid ! 
You raw-boned, crooked, overgrown, 
Ungainly, croaking jade ! 

10. What ! rid of thee % Ye lucky stars! 
I'm thunder-struck with joy ! 
I wouldn't marry such a chub 
For all the wealth of Troy ! 



LESSON XI. 

TRAGIC FATE OF MRS. CAUDLE. 
ANONYMOUS. 

Mr. Caudle had a scolding wife, 

(A most uncommon thing in life;) 

His days and nights were spent in strife unceasing. 

Her tongue went glibly all day long, 

Sweet contradiction, still her song, 

And all the poor man did was wrong, and ill-done. 

A truce without doors, or within, 
From speeches long as tradesmen spin 
Or rest from her eternal din, he found not. 
He every soothing art displayed ; 
Tried of what stuff her skin was made : 
Failing in all, to Heaven he prayed, to take her. 
N* 21 



322 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

3. Once, walking by a river's side, 

In mournful terms " My dear ! " he cried, 

" No more let feuds our peace divide — I'll end them. 

Weary of life, and quite resigned, 

To drown I have made up my mind, 

So tie my hands as fast behind as can be, — 

4. " Or nature may assert her reign, 
My arms assist, my will restrain, 

And, swimming, I once more regain my troubles." 
With eager haste the dame complies, 
While joy stands glistening in her eyes ; 
Already, in her thoughts, he dies before her. 

5. " Yet, when I view the rolling tide, 
Nature revolts " — he said ; " beside, 

I would not be a suicide, and die thus. 

It would be better, far, I think. 

While close I stand upon the brink, 

You push me in, — nay, never shrink — but do it. 

6. To give the blow the more effect, 
Some twenty yards she ran direct, 

And did what she could least expect she should do. 

He slips aside himself to save, 

So souse ! she dashes in the wave, 

And gave, what ne'er before she gave — much pleasure. 

" Dear husband, help ! I sink ! " she cried ; 

" Thou best of wives " — the man replied, 

" I would, but you my hands have tied — Heaven help you." 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 323 

LESSON XII. 

LAMENT OF A YOUNG LADY. 

ANONYMOUS. 

1. ItV really very singular, 

I cannot make it out, 
I've many beaux, yet none propose — 

What are they all about ? 
There's Mr. Bailey comes here daily, 

To dinner and to doze ; 
He smiles and sighs, looks very wise, 

And yet he don't propose. 

2. I'm sonnetized, I'm poetized, 

I'm paragraphed on paper ; 
They vow, although I'm very stout, 

My waist is very taper ; 
That I've a very Grecian face, 

And rather a Grecian nose, 
Yet seeing this, it's quite amiss, 

That none of them propose. 

3. That Colonel Tancers, of the Lancers, 

Sometimes looks speechless things ; 



He smiles and sighs, and coal black eyes, 

And O, the songs he sings! 
He does not want encouragement, 

Enough of that, Heaven knows ! 
And then his air, so militaire — 

O, if he would propose ! 

4. They steal my pocket handkerchief — 
They pray for locks of hair — 

They ask me for my hand to dance, 

They praise my grace and air ; 



324 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

There's Mr. Dyson, fond of hyson, 
I wonder he don't close : 

I make his tea, he smiles on me, 
And yet he don't propose ! 

5. At park or play, by night or day, 

They follow me about ; 
Riding or walking, singing or talking, 

At revel, masque, or rout ! 
My father thinks it very hard, 

That out of all the beaux, 
Who come to dine, and drink his wine, 

None of them will propose. 

6. Yes, it is very singular, 

I've half a mind to pout ; 
Of all the beax, none will propose — 

What do they dream about ? 
However, now my mind's resolved : 

In poetry or prose, 
Whate'er ensue, or false or true, 

One of them shall propose. 



LESSON XIII. 

THE OLD BACHELOR. 
BY A MAD POBT. 

1. In the vast flower-field of human affection, there is not a 
more miserable being than the old bachelor. He is the very 
scare-crow of human happiness. He scares away the little 
birds of love that come to steal the hemlock seeds of loneli- 
ness and despair. See him come home at night, wet and hun- 
gry ; he finds a cold hearth, a barren table, and a lonely pillow, 
that looks like the white urn of earthly enjoyment. 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 325 

2. See him in the afternoon of his days, when his life is sink- 
ing to its sundown. Not a solitary star of memory gleams 
over the dusk of his opening grave. No devoted wife to bend 
like a blessing over his dying bed ; no lovely daughter to draw 
his icy hand into the fond embrace of hers, and warm his 
freezing heart with the reviving fires of filial affection; no 
manly boy to link his breaking name with the golden chain of 
honorable society, and bind his history in the vast volume of 
the world, he must soon leave forever. 

3. It will soon be said, that he has eat, and drunk, and died ; 
and earth is glad it is rid of him, for he has done little else than 
cram his soul into the circumference of a sixpence, and no hu- 
man being but his washerwoman will breathe a sigh at his 
funeral. 



LESSON XIV. 

WOMAN DESIGNED TO BE ADMIRED AND MARRIED. 

ANONYMOTJS. 

1. Poor friar Philip lost his wife, 
The charm and comfort of his life ; 
He mourned her just like modern men, 
For ladies were worth having then. 
The world was altered in his view, 
All things put on a yellow hue; 
Even ladies, once his chief delight, 
Were now offensive to his sight ; 
In short, he 'pined and looked so ill, 
The doctor hoped to make a bill. 

2. At last he made a vow to fly, 
And hide himself from every eye ; 



326 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Take up his lodgings in a wood, 
To turn a hermit, and grow good. 
He had a son you now must know, 
About a twelve-month old or so ; 
Him, Philip took up in his arms, 
To snatch him from all female charms, 
Intending he should never know, 
There were such things as girls below, 
But lead an honest hermit's life, 
Lest he, likewise, might lose his wife. 

3. The place he chose for his retreat, 
Was once a lion's country seat ; 
Far in a wild, romantic wood, 
The hermit's little cottage stood, 
Hid, by the trees, from human view 
The sun himself could scarce get through : 
A little garden, tilled with care, 
Supplied them with their daily fare ; 
Fresh water-cresses from the spring, 
Turnips, or greens, or some such thing ; 
Hermits don't care much what they eat, 
And appetite can make it sweet ! 

4. 'Twas here our little hermit grew, 
His father taught him all he knew, 
Adopting, like a cheerful sage, 
His lessons to the pupil's age. 

At five years old he showed him flowers, 
Taught him their various names and powers, 
Taught him to blow upon a reed, 
To say his prayers, and get the creed. 



5„ At ten, he lectured him on herbs 



(Better than learning nouns and verbs,) 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 327 

The names and qualities of trees, 
Manners and customs of the bees ; 
Then talked of oysters full of pearls, 
But not one word about the girls. 
At fifteen years, he turned his eyes 
To view the wonders of the skies ; 
Called all the stars by their right names, 
As you would call on John or James ; 
And showed him all the signs above, 
But not a whisper about love. 

6. And now his sixteenth year was nigh, 
And yet he had not learned to sigh ; 
Had sleep and appetite to spare ; 
He could not tell the name of care ; 
And all because he did not know 
There were such things as girls below. 
But now a tempest raged around, 
The hermit's little nest was drowned ; 
Good bye then, too, poor Philip's crop, 
It did not leave a turnip-top. 

Poor Philip grieved, and his son too, 
They prayed — they knew not what to do; 
If they were hermits, they must live, 
And wolves have not much alms to give. 

7. Now, in his native town he knew 
He had disciples — rich ones too, 
Who would not let him beg in vain, 
But set the hermit up again. 

But what to do with his young son — 
Pray tell me what would you have done ? 
Take him to town he was afraid, 
For what if he should see a maid ! 



328 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

In love, as sure as he had eyes, 

Then any quantity of sighs ! 

Leave him at home 1 the wolves, the bears ! 

Poor Philip had a father's fears. 

8. In short, he knew not what to do, 
But thought at last, to take him too; 
And so, with truly pious care, 

He counts his beads in anxious prayer, 
Intended as a sort of charm, 
To keep his darling lad from harm ; 
That is from pretty ladies' wiles, 
Especially their eyes and smiles ; 
Then brushed his coat of silver gray, 
And now you see them on their way. 

9. It was a town, they all agree, 
Where there was everything to see, 
As paintings, statues, and so on, 
All that men love to look upon. 
Our little lad, you may suppose, 
Had never seen so many shows ; 

He stands with open mouth and eyes, 

Like one just fallen from the skies ; 

Pointing at everything he sees — 

"What's this % what's that 1 O here, what these % 

At last he spies a charming thing, 

That men call angel when they sing — 

Young lady, when they speak in prose — 

Sweet thing ! as everybody knows. 

Transported, ravished, at the sight ; 

He feels a strange, but sweet delight. 

" What's this ! what's this ! O heavens ! " he cries, 

"That looks so sweetlv with its eves: 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL 829 

O, shall I catch it % is it tame ? 
What is it, father ? what's its name 'I 

10. Poor Philip knew not what to say, 
But tried to turn his eyes away ; 
He crossed himself and made a vow, 
" 'Tis as I feared, all's over now ; 
Then, pr'y thee have thy wits let loose 1 
It is a bird, men call a goose." 
" A goose ! O pretty, pretty thing ! 
And will it sing, too, will it sing ? 
O come, come quickly, let us run, 
That's a good father, catch me one ! 
We'll take it with us to our cell, 
Indeed, indeed, I love it well ! M 



LESSON XV. 

A POLITICAL STUMP SPEECH. 
OBADIAH PARTINGTON S"W1PES. 

1. Fellow Citizens : — We have met here to investigate 
the etherial contaminations of this terraqueous government of 
the firmament below. We may elucidate the praises of the 
invisible Scott, who has fought with wise and deleterious con- 
flagration over the plains of Mexico, through Bhering's straits 
to Hudson's bay. And let me tell you, that the names of the 
invincible Pierce, aud the oleaginous Van Buren, shall travel 
down to receding generations, gloriously enrolled on the records 
of perpetuity and glory. Yes, they shall live on, and shine on, 
when the Columbian principles of Hale and Julien shall be dis- 
embogued into the unforgotten regions of ambiguous fame. 



330 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

2. But I have been accused of going for the sub-treasury and 
the fugitive slave labor. Now, that's a lie ! and I am prepared 
to come down upon that base calumniator of innocence and 
beauty, like a thousand of brick ! I'll hurl at him the gauntlet 
of egotism and pomposity, through the innumerable regions 
of Mozambique and Santa Fe De Bogota ; and rush down on 
him like an avalanche on the plains of De Laplata, before I'll 
stand the charge ! The sub-treasury means to watch the money. 
Now I say one man is enough to watch our money. I had 
rather have one man to watch my money, my life, and my 
country, too, than to have a thousand, because Homer, the 
greatest poet that ever flourished in umbrageous England, says, 
in beautiful ambidexter, Latin verse — 

' He thai steals my purse, steals trash." 

3. But about our eternal improvements. What, in the name 
of the invisible Jackson, do we want to make so many rail- 
roads and canals for 1 What do we want any more water for 
in these United States 1 We have got water enough. The 
water in canals aint good for nothing but to float boats in, the 
best way you can fix it. They want to go on making railroads 
and canals, until our country shall equal in magnanimity the 
great and philosophic Pacific ocean. 

4. And now, to conclude, fellow-citizens, let me tell you, 
that the memory of the whig and democratic democracy of our 
great democratic constitution, shall be hung upon a star and 
shine forever in odoriferous amalgamation in the terraqueous 
firmament on high, in one eternal bustification ! 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 331 

LESSON XVI. 

THE LITTLE ORATOR A PARODY. 

ANONYMOUS. 

1. You'd scarce a expect a boy like me, 

To get up here where all can see, 
And make a speech as well as those 
Who wear the largest kind of clothes. 

2. I think it was in olden time, 

That some one said in funny rhyme, 
Tall aches from little toe-corns grow, 
Large screams from little children flow. 

3. And if that rhymer told the truth, 

Though I am now a little youth, 
Perhaps I'll make as great a noise, 
As some who are much older boys. 

4. I will not speak of Greece and Rome, 

But tell you what I've learned at home ; 
And what was taught me when at school, 
While sitting on a bench or stool. 

5. I've learned to talk, and read, and spell, 

And don't you think that's pretty well 
For such a little boy as 1 1 

But I must leave you — so good bye ! 



332 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XVII. 

SOLILOQUY OF A HOUSEMAID. 
FAJSTNT FERN. 

1. Oh, dear, dear! Wonder if my mistress ever thinks I 
am made of flesh and blood % Five times, within half an hour, 
I have trotted up stairs, to hand her things that were only four 
feet from her rocking-chair. Then, there's her son, Mr. 
George, — it does seem to me, that a great able-bodied man 
like him, needn't call a poor tired woman up four pair of stairs 
to ask "what's the time of day 1 ?" Heigho! — its "Sally do 
this," and " Sally do that," till I wish I never had been baptized 
at all ; and I might as well go farther back, while I am about it, 
and wish I had never been born. 

2. Now, instead of ordering me round so like a dray horse, 
if they would only look up smiling-like, now and then; or ask 
me how my "rheumatiz" did; or say good. morning Sally; 
or show some sort of interest in a fellow-cretur, I could pluck 
up a bit of heart to work for them. A kind word would ease 
the wheels of my treadmill amazingly, and wouldn't cost them 
anything, either. 

3. Look at my clothes, all at sixes and sevens. I can't get 
a minute to sew on a string or button, except at night ; and 
then I 'm so sleepy it is as much as ever I can find the way to 
bed ; and what a bed it is, to be sure ! Why, even the pigs 
are now and then allowed clean straw to sleep on ; and as to 
bed-clothes, the less said about them the better ; my old cloak 
serves for a blanket, and the sheets are as thin as a charity 
school soup. Well, well ; one would n't think it, to see all the 
fine glittering things down in the drawing-room. Master's span 
of horses, and Miss Clara's diamond ear-rings, and mistress's 
rich dresses. I try to think it is all right, but it is no use. 

4. To-morrow is Sunday — "day of rest" I believe they call 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 

it. H-u-m-p-h! — more cooking to be done — more company — 
more confusion than on any other day in the week. If I own 
a soul I have not heard how to take care of it for many a long 
day. Wonder if my master and mistress calculate to pay me 
for that,\f Hose if? It is a question in my mind. Land of 
Goshen ! I aint sure I Ve got a mind — there 's the bell again ! 



LESSON XVHI. 

THE COLD WATER MAN. 

JOHN G. SAXB. 

1. There lived an honest fisherman, 

I knew him passing well — 
Who dwelt hard by a little pond, 
Within a little dell. 

2. A grave and quiet man was he, 

Who loved his hook and rod ; 
So even ran his line of life, 
His neighbors thought it odd. 

3. For science and for books, he said, 

He never had a wish ; 
No school to him was worth a fig, 
Except a " school " of fish. 

4. This single-minded fisherman 

A double calling had, — 
To tend his flocks, in winter-time, 
In summer fish for shad. 

5. In short this honest fisherman, 

All other toils forsook ; 
And though no vagrant man was he, 
He lived by " hook and crook. 



334 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

6. All day that fisherman would sit 

Upon an ancient log, 
And gaze into the water, like 
Some sedentary frog. 

7. A cunning fisherman was he ; 

His angles all were right ; 
And when he scratched his aged poll, 
You'd know he'd got a bite. 

8. To charm the fish he never spoke, 

Although his voice was fine ; 
He found the most convenient way, 
Was just to " drop a line." 

9. And many a " gudgeon " of the pond. 

If made to speak to-day, 
Would own with grief, this angler had 
A mighty " taking way." 

10. One day, while fishing on the log, 

He mourned his want of luck, — 
When, suddenly, he felt a bite, 
And jerking — caught a duck ! 

11. Alas! that day, the fisherman 

Had taken too much grog ; 

And being but a landsman, too, 

He couldn't " keep the log." 

12. In vain he strove with all his might, 

And tried to gain the shore ; 
Down, down he went to feed the fish 
He'd baited oft before ! 

13. The moral of this mournful tale 

To all is plain and clear : — 
A single " drop too much " of rum. 
May make a watery bier. 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 335 

14. And he who will not " sign the pledge," 
And keep his promise fast, 
May be, in spite of fate, a stark 
Cold-water man, at last ! 



LESSON XIX. 

TOBY TOSSPOT. 



1. Alas ! what pity 'tis that regularity, 

Like Isaac Shove's is such a rarity, 
But there are swilling wights in London town 

Termed jolly dogs, choice spirits, alias swine, 
Who pour in midnight revel, bumpers down, 

Making their throats a thoroughfare for wine. 

These spendthrifts, who life s pleasures thus run on, 
Dozing with headaches till the afternoon, 

Lose half men's regular estate of sun, 
By borrowing too largely of the moon. 

2/ One of this kidney — Toby Tosspot hight — 

Was coming from the Bedford late at night. 

And being Bacchi plenus, — full of wine, 

Although he had a tolerable notion, 

Of aiming at progressive motion, 

T wasn't direct — 'twas serpentine. 

3. He worked with sinuosities, along, 

Like "Monsieur Corkscrew, worming through a cork. 

Not straight like Corkscrew's proxy, stiff Don Prong — a fork. 

4. At length, with near four bottles in his pate, 
He saw the moon shining on Shove's brass plate, 



336 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

When reading, " Please to ring the bell," 

And being civil beyond measure, 

" Ring it ! " says Toby — " Very well ; 

I'll ring it with a deal of pleasure." 
Toby, the kindest soul in all the town. 
Gave it a jerk that almost jerked it down. 

5. He waited two full minutes — no one came ; 

He waited full two minutes more, — and then, 
Says Toby, " If he's deaf, I'm not to blame ; 
I'll pull it for the gentleman again." 

6. But the first peal woke Isaac in a fright, 

Who, quick as lightning, popping up his head, 
Sat on his head's antipodes, in bed, 
Pale as a parsnip, — bolt upright. 

7. At length he wisely to himself doth say, calming his fears, 

" Tush ! 'tis some fool has rung and run away ; " 
When peal the second rattled in his ears ! 

8. Shove jumped into the middle of the floor ; 

And, trembling at each breath of air that stirred, 
He groped down stairs, and opened the street door, 
While Toby' was performing peal the third. 

9. Isaac eyed Toby, fearfully askant, — 

And saw he was a strapper stout and tall, 
Then put this question : — " Pray, sir, what d'ye want?" 
Says Toby, — " I want nothing sir, at all ! " 

10. " Want nothing ! — sir, you've pulled my bell, I vow, 
As if you'd jerk it off the wire." 
Quoth Toby, — gravely making him a bow, — 
" I pulled it, sir, at your desire." 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 337 

11. " At nine ! " — "Yes, yours ; I hope I've done it well ; 
High time for bed, sir ; I was hastening to it ; 
But if you write up — ' Please to ring the bell,' 
Common politeness makes me stop and do it." 



LESSON XX. 

PAY THE PRINTER. 

DOW, JE. 

Text. — "If ye are honest, honorable men, go ye and pay the printer.' ' 

1. My Dear Friends : — The debt that sits heaviest on the 
conscience of a mortal, provided he has one, is the debt due 
the printer. It presses harder on one's bosom than the night- 
mare, galls the soul, frets and chafes every ennobling sentiment, 
squeezes all the juice of fraternal sympathy from the heart, 
and leaves it drier than the surface of a roasted potato. A 
man who wrougs the printer out of a single red cent, can never 
expect to enjoy the comforts of this world, and may well have 
doubts of finding happiness in any other. 

2. Oh, you ungrateful sinners ! If you have hearts moist- 
ened with the dew of mercy, instead of gizzards filled with 
gravel, take heed what I say unto you. If there be one among 
you in this congregation who has not settled his account with 
the printer, go and adjust it immediately, and be able to hold 
up your heads in society like a giraffe ; be respected by the 
wise and good — free from the tortures of a guilty conscience, 
the mortification of repeated duns, and escape from falling into 
the clutches of lawyers, which is about one and the same thing. 
If you are honest and honorable men, you will go forthwith 
and pay the printer. 

3. You will not wait for to-morrow, because there is no to- 
morrow ; it is but a visionary receptacle for unredeemed prom- 

O 22 



338 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

ises — an addled egg in the great nest of the future ; the debt- 
or's hope, the creditor's curse. If you are dishonest, low- 
minded sons of Satan, I don't suppose you will pay the printer, 
as you have no reputation to lose, no character to sustain, no 
morals to cultivate. But, let me tell you, my friends, that if 
you don't do it ; your path to the tomb will be strewn with 
thorns, you will have to gather your daily food from brambles ; 
your children will die of dysentery, and yourselves will never 
enjoy the blessings of health. 

4. I once called upon a sick person whom the doctor had 
given up as a gone case. I asked him if he had made his 
peace with his Maker % He said he thought he had squared up. 
I inquired if he had forgiven all his enemies. He replied yes. 
I then asked him if he had paid his printer. He hesitated a 
moment and then said, he believed he owed him about two 
dollars and fifty cents, which he desired to have paid before he 
bid good-bye to the world. His desires were immediately grat- 
ified, and from that moment he became convalescent. He is 
now living in the enjoyment of health and prosperity, at peace 
with his conscience, his God, and the whole world. Let him 
be an example for you, my friends. Patronize the printer, take 
his paper and pay for it in advance, and your days will be long 
upon the earth and overflowing with the honey of happiness. 



LESSON XXI. 

LECTURE ON MATRIMONY. 

FANNY FERN. 



1. Now, girls, said Aunt Hetty, put down your embroidery 
and worsted work, do something sensible, and stop building 
air castles, and talking of lovers and honeymoons ; it makes 
me sick, it 's perfectly antimonial. Love is a farce — matrimony 



COxMICAL AiJD MUSICAL, 339 

is a humbug— husbands are domestic Napoleons, Neros, Alex- 
anders, sighing for other hearts to conquer after they are sure 
of yours. 

2. The honeymoon is short lived as a lucifer match ; after 
that you may wear your wedding dress at the wash-tub, and 
your night-cap to meeting, and your husband would n't know 
it. You may pick up your own pocket handkerchief, help 
yourself to a chair, and split your gown across the back reach 
ing over the table to get a piece of butter, while he is laying 
in his breakfast as if it was the last meal he should eat this 
side of Jordan; when he gets through he will aid your diges- 
tion — while you are sipping your first cup of coffee — by in- 
quiring what you '11 have for dinner, whether the cold lamb was 
all ate yesterday, if the charcoal is all out, and what you gave 
for the last green tea you bought. 

3. Then he gets up from the table, lights his cigar with the 
last evening's paper, that you have not had a chance to read, 
gives two or three whiffs of smoke, sure to give you a headache 
for the afternoon, and just as his coat-tail is vanishing through 
the door, apologizes for not doing "that errand" for you yester- 
day — thinks it doubtful if he can to-day — " so pressed with bu- 
siness." Hear of Mm at 11 o'clock, taking an ice cream with 
some ladies at Vinton's, while you are at home new lining his 
coat-sleeves. 

4. Children by the ears all day, can 't get out to take the air, 
feel as crazy as a fly in a drum ; husband comes home at night, 
nods a " how d' ye do, Fan," boxes Charley's ears, stands little 
Fanny in the corner, sits down in the easiest chair in the warm- 
est corner, puts his feet up over the grate, shutting out all the 
fire, while the baby's little pug nose grows blue with the 
cold; reads the newspaper all to himself, solaces his inner 
man with a hot cup of tea, and just as you are laboring under 
the hallucination that he will ask you to take a mouthful 
of fresh air with him, he puts on his dressing gown and slip- 



840 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

pers, and begins to reckon up the family expenses ! after which, 
he lies down on the sofa, and you keep time with your needle, 
while he snores till nine o'clock. 

5. Next morning ask him to leave you " a little money," he 
looks at you as if to be sure that you are in your right mind, 
draws a sigh long enough and strong enough to inflate a bellows, 
and asks you " what you want with it, and if a half a dollar 
won't do." Gracious king ! as if those little shoes, and stock- 
ings, and petticoats could be had for half a dollar ! 

6. Oh, girls ! set your affections on cats, poodles, parrots or 
lap dogs — but let matrimony alone. It 's the hardest way on 
earth of getting a living — you never know when your work is 
done up. Think of carrying eight or nine children through the 
measles, chicken pox, rash, mumps, and scarlet fever, some of 
'em twice over ; it makes my sides -ache to think of it. Oh, 
you may scrimp and save, and twist and turn, and dig and 
delve, and economise, and die, and your husband will marry 
again, and take what you have saved to dress his second wife 
with, and she '11 take your portrait for a fire-board, and — but 
what 's the use of talking % I '11 warrant every one of you '11 
try it, the first chance you get ; there's a sort of bewitchment 
about it somehow. I wish one half of the world warn't fools, 
and t'other half idiots, I do. Oh, dear ! 



LESSON XXII. 

SPEECH AT A DEBATING SOCIETY. 

BY A SPECTATOE. 

Question : — Which is the greatest evil, a scolding wife or a smoking chimney ? 

]. Mr. President: — I have been almost mad a listening 
to the debate of these 'ere youngsters. They don't know any- 
thing about the subject. What do they know about the evils 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 341 

of a scolding wife ? Wait till they have one for twenty years, 
and been hammered, and jammed, and slammed, all the while ; 
and wait till they have been scolded because the baby cried, be- 
cause the fire wouldn't burn, because the oven was too hot, be- 
cause the cow kicked over the milk, because it rained, because 
the sun shined, because the hens didn't lay, because the butter 
wouldn't come, because the old cat had kittens, because they 
come too soon to dinner, because they were one minute too 
late, because they sung, because they tore their trowsers, because 
they invited a neighbor woman to call again, no matter whether 
they could or not, — before they talk about the evils of scolding. 
2. Why, Mr. President, I had rather hear the clatter of 
hammers and stones, twenty tin-pans and nine brass-kettles, than 
the din, din, of a scolding wife. Yes-sir-ee, I would ; to my 
mind, Mr. President, a smoking chimney is no more compared 
to a scolding wife, than a little nigger is to a dark night. 



LESSON XXIII. 

SCENE ON THE FIRST DAY OF APRIL. 



BTFFALO COTTBLEE. 



Deep in a lonely glen, by rugged cliffs 

Surrounded, and hemmed in, there had been reared 

A rustic hamlet. Its low cottage 

Was neat and comely, and its single spire 

Peered up amid the rocks that beetled round, 

And humbly pointed out the way to heaven. 

'Twas a wild spot, where nature loved to rear 

Her rustic noblemen. The village school 

From which rich stores of knowledge had been won, 

Stood close beside a precipice, whose top 

With a broad, solid rock was covered o'er, 



342 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Here oft the village children would resort 

For sport and pastime ; heedless of the cliff* 

Which stretched so close beside them, heedless, too, 

Of many a prudent matron's warning voice, 

Or the good teacher's wise and solemn look, 

As he gazed down into the dark abyss, 

And shook his head, and bade them stand aloof. 

2. Bright rose the sun the morn that ushered in 

The month of storms ; from rock, and brier, and tree, 
The frost-work glittered like a diamond robe. 
The ice-bound stream was loosing fast her chain, 
And summer seemed awaking from her sleep. 
The village lads their wonted haunts had sought, 
To spend their holiday ; and wild and high, 
Rung out upon the air their shouts of glee. 
Long time they gamboled, till the sun had climbed 
With silent, lingering step, half-way mid-heaven, 
And in their childish joyousness forgot, 
The frowning precipice ; when one wild youth, 
Marked out his headling course toward the cliff, 
And on a sudden shrieked and disappeared ! 
With horror-stricken looks the startled group, 
Gazed for a moment, — then in one wild scream, 
They burst, and, frighted, fled. 

3. The alarm was spread, 
From cot to cot, even to the hamlet's verge, 
And every hut, and every humble shed 
Gave forth into the street its stated train, 
With anxious look, to question who was lost. 
He was a widowed mother's only son, 

And every breast in sympathy awoke, 

When she — the stricken — from her cot rushed forth, 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 343 

And led toward the cliff. The hurrying crowd 
Pressed close upon her track, with hooks and ropes 
Preparing, as they went, that they might bring 
Back from the deep abyss the mangled boy, — 
A last poor consolation for a friend. 

They reached the spot, and, by a mother's tears 
Urged on, made ready for the dire descent, 
Down that dark precipice, when suddenly, 
Peering above the rocks, the widow's son 
Cried, " April Fool ! " 



LESSON XXIV. 



ANOimiOTTS. 



1. A follow near Kentucky's clime, 

Cries, " boatman do not tarry, 
And I'll give thee a silver dime, 
To row us o'er the ferry." 

2. " Now who would cross the Ohio, 

This dark and stormy water ? " 
" O, I am this young lady's beau, 

And she's John Thompson's daughter. 

3. " We've fled before her father's spite, 

With great precipitation, 
And should he find us here to-night, 
I'd lose my reputation. 

4. " They've missed the girl and purse besides, 

His horsemen hard have pressed me, 
And who will cheer my bonny bride, 
If yet they will arrest me ? " 



344 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

5. Out spoke the boatman then, in time, 

" You shall not fail, don't fear it ; 
I'll go ; not for your silver dime, 
But for your manly spirit. 

6. " And by my word, the bonny bird 

In danger shall not tarry, 
For though a storm is coming on, 
I'll row you o'er the ferry." 

7. By this the wind more fiercely rose, 

The boat was at the landing, 
And with the drenching rain their clothes 
Grew wet where they were, standing. 

8. But still, as wilder rose the wind, 

And as the night grew drearer, 
Just back a-piece came the police, 
Their trampling sounded nearer. 

9. " Oh, haste thee, haste ! " the lady cries, 

" It's anything but funny, 
I'll leave the light of loving eyes. 
But not my father's money." 

10. And still they hurried in the face 

Of wind and rain unsparing ; 
John Thompson reached the landing place, 
His wrath was turned to swearing. 

11. For, by the lightning's angry flash, 

His child he did discover ; 
One lovely hand held all his cash, 
And one was round her lover ! " 

12. "Come back, comeback ! " he cried in woe, 

Across the stormy water ; 
" But leave the purse and you may go, 
My daughter, O, my daughter ! " 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 345 

13. 'Twas vain — they reached the other shore, 
(Such dooms the fates assign us,) 
The gold he'd piled went with his child, 
And he was left there, minus. 



LESSON XXV. 



ADDRESS TO YOUNG LADIES. 






1. Ladies, you caged birds of beautiful plumage, but sickly 
looks ; you pale pets of the parlor, vegetating in an unhealthy 
shade with a greenish white complexion, like that of a potato 
sprout in a dark cellar, why don't you go out in the open air 
and warm sunshine, and add lustre to your eyes, bloom to your 
cheeks, elasticity to your steps, and vigor to your frames 1 
• 2. Take early morning exercise — let loose your corset strings, 
and run up a hill on a wager, and down again for fun. Eoam 
in the fields, climb the fences, leap the ditches, wade the brooks, 
and go home with an excellent appetite. Liberty thus exer- 
cised and enjoyed, will render you healthy, blooming, and beau- 
tiful — as lovely as the graces, and as prolific as Deverra. 

3. The buxom, bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked, full-breasted, boun- 
cing lass, who can darn a stocking, mend her frocks, command 
a regiment of pots and kettles, feed the hogs, milk the cows, 
and be a lady withal in company, is just the sort of a girl for 
me, or any other young man to marry; but you, ye pining, loll- 
ing, screwed up, wasp-waisted, doll-dressed, putty-faced, con- 
sumption-mortgaged, music-murdering, novel-devouring daugh- 
ters of fashion and idleness; you are no more fit for matrimony 
than a pullet is to look after fourteen chickens. 

4. The truth is, my dear girls, you want, generally speaking, 

O* 



346 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

more liberty, and less fashionable restraint ; more kitchen, and 
less parlor ; more leg exercise, and less sofa ; more frankness, 
and less mock modesty ; more corned beef, and less bishop. 
Loosen yourselves a little ; enjoy more liberty, and less re- 
straint by fashion. Breathe the pure atmosphere of freedom, 
and become something nearly as lovely and beautiful as the 
God of nature designed. 



LESSON XXVI. 

SOLILOQUY OF A SINGLE GENTLEMAN. 

1. Bless me ! I'm thirty-nine to-day ; six feet in my stock- 
ings, black eyes, curly hair, tall and straight as a cedar of Leb- 
non, and still a bachelor ! Well, it's an independent life at 
least ; — no it isn't either ! Here's these new gloves of mine 
full of little rips ; string off one of my most faultless dickeys ; 
nice silk handkerchief in my drawer wants hemming ; top but- 
ton off the waistband of my pants ; what's to be done ? 

2. How provoking it is to see those married people look- 
ing so self-satisfied and consequential, at the heads of their fam- 
ilies, as if they had done the state a great service. Why, as 
to the children, they are as plenty as flies in August, and 
about as troublesome ; every alley, and court, and garret, are 
swarming with 'em ; they're no rarity, and any poor, miserable 
wretch can get a wife, enough of them, too, such as they are. 
It's enough to scare a man to death to think how much it costs 
to keep one. 

3. Young folks have to begin now where their fathers and 
mothers left off. Silks and satins, ribbons and velvets, feath- 
ers and flowers, cuff-pins and bracelets, gim-cracks and fol-de- 
rols ; and there's no help for it in any case ; for if I married 
a woman I loved, and the dear little thing should ask me for 






COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 347 

my scalp, I should give it to her, I know I should. Then 
there's the tapestry carpets, and mirrors, and sofas, and otto- 
mans, and damask curtains, and pictures, and croke-ry, and 
(you must look at the subject in all its bearings,) little jackets, 
and frocks, and wooden horses, and dolls, and pop-guns, and 
ginger-bread, — don't believe I can do it, by Jupiter ! 

4. But then, here I sit, with the toe of my best boot kick- 
ing the grate, for the want of something to do ; it's coming 
awful cold, dreary weather, long evenings, can't go to concerts 
forever, and when I do, my room looks so much the gloomier 
when I come back, and it would be cozy to have a nice little 
wife to chat and laugh with. I've tried to think of something 
else, but I can't ; if I look in the fire, I am sure to see a pair 
of bright eyes ; even the shadows on the wall take fairy shapes ; 
I'm on the brink of ruin — I feel it; I shall read my doom in 
the marriage list before long — I know I shall. 



LESSON XXVII. 



RAPS ON THE LAPSTONE. 



1. Old Crispin wore a paper cap, 

And an apron made of leather ; 
He sat upon his bench to rap 
Soles (not spirits) hours together. 

2. He said his last days were his best, 

Though he felt the thread unwinding ; 
His heart waxed warm within his vest, 
And what he closed was binding. 



348 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

3. When others spoke of this world's weal, 

Crispin pointed to an upper ; 
He had the wondrous skill to heel, 
But gave his earthly awl for supper. 

4. He heeled more than the doctors did, 

And helped the soles more than the preacher ; 
For a quid pro quo he gave a quid, 

And used the strap more than the teacher. 

5. Aye, Crispin was a good old man, 

Yet sometimes he would bristle, 
But do the very best we can, 

" A pig's tail will not make a whistle." 



LESSON xxvin. 



LECTURE ON CALIFORNIA. 



1. Mr hearers : — I know very well what will procure you 
bliss by the hogshead ; it is that wretched, filthy stuff, called 
money. That it is that keeps your souls in a flutter, and sets 
you jumping like a lot of chained monkeys at the sight of a 
string of fish. You think if you only possessed a certain heap of 
lucre, you would be off in lavender, make mouths at care, say 
" how are you 1 " to sorrow, laugh at time, and feel happy as 
an oyster in June. 

2. O, yes ! if you only had enough of the trash, I would 
admit you might feel satisfied, and, of course, contented ; but 
in such cases more requires more, (according to Daboll and 
rum,) the last more requires most, most wants more yet ; and 
so on to the end of everlasting. There is no such thing as tho 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL, 349 

end of worldly wishes for worldly riches. As well might the 
sow be supposed to get enough of wallowing in the mire, as 
for a mortal to be satisfied with the rolling in the carrion of 
wealth. So false are your* ideas of the means to obtain happi- 
ness, that you would, if you could, coax angels from the skies 
to rob them of the jewels in their diadems. I havn't the least 
doubt of it. 

3. My dear friends, I will tell you how to enjoy as much 
bliss as heaven can afford to human. Be contented with what 
you have — no matter how poor it is, until you have an oppor- 
tunity to get something better. Be thankful for every crumb 
that falls from the table of Providence, and live in constant ex- 
pectation of having the luck to pitch upon a whole loaf. Have 
patience to put up with present troubles, and console yourselves 
with the idea that your situations are paradises compared with 
others. 

4. When you have enough to eat to satisfy hunger, enough 
to drink to quench thirst, enough to wear to keep you decent 
and comfortable, just enough of what is vulgarly called " tin " 
to procure you a few luxuries, when you owe no one, and no 
one owes you, not even a grudge, then if you are not happy, 
all the gold in the universe cannot make you so. 

5. A man much wiser than I, once said, give me neither pov- 
erty nor riches ; and I look upon him as one of the greatest 
philosophers the world ever produced. All he wanted was a 
contented mind , sufficient bread and cheese, and a clean shirt. 
Take pattern after him, O ye disconcerted mortals, who vainly 
imagine that bliss is to be found in the palaces of wealth and 
opulence. 

6. My hearers, if you consider all creation too poor to af- 
ford you a single penny-worth of true blessedness, you must 
pray to be reconciled to its poverty. Grease your prayers 
with faith, and send them up in earnestness, hot from the soul's 
oven. This manufacturing cold petitions with the lips, while 



350 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

the heart continually cries gammon, is of no more use than 
talking Choctaw to Chinese. 

7. Heaven understands no gibberish ; it knows only the pure, 
simple language of the spirit — the soul's vernacular. So, when 
you pray, do it in as simple a manner as possible, but with red 
hot earnestness, and your souls will find rest wherever you are 
— whether nibbling at a crust in Poverty Hollow, or half star- 
ving in California, while endeavoring to transmogrify a bag of 
gold dust into an Indian meal pudding. 



LESSON XXIX. 

ONE GOOD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER. 

ME3. GILMAK. 

1. Will Wag went to see Charley Quirk, 

More famed for his books than his knowledge, 
In order to borrow a work 

He had sought for in vain over college. 

2. But Charley replied, " My dear friend, 

You must know I have sworn and agreed, 
My books from my room not to lend, 
But you may sit by my fire and read. 

3. Now it happened by chance on the morrow, 

That Quirk, with a cold, quivering air, 
Came, his neighbor Will's bellows to borrow, 
For his own they were out of repair. 

4. But Willy replied, " My dear friend, 

I have sworn and agreed, you must know, 
That my bellows I never will lend, 

But you may sit by my fire and blow." 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL, 351 

LESSON XXX. 

ORATOR PUFF. 

ANONYMOUS. 

1. Mr. Orator Puff had two tones in his voice, 

The one, squeaking thus, and the other down so ; 
In each sentence he utter'd he gave you your choice, 
For one half was B alt, and the rest G below. 

Oh! oh! Orator Puff, 

One voice for an orator's surely enough. 

2. But he still talked away, spite of coughs and of frowns, 
So distracting all ears with his ups and his downs, 
That a wag once, on hearing the orator say, 

"My voice is for war," ask'd him, " Which of them, pray ? " 
Oh! oh! &c. 

3. Keeling homeward one evening, top-heavy with gin, 

And rehearsing his speech on the weight of the crown, 
He tripp'd near a saw-pit, and tumbled right in, 

"Sinking fund," the last words as his noddle came down. 
Oh! oh! &c. 

4. " Good Lord ! " he exclaimed, in his he-and-she tones, 

" Help me out ! help me out ! I have broken my bones ! w 
"Help you out?" said a Paddy, who pass'd, " what a 

bother ! 
Why, there's two of you there ; can't you help one an- 
other 1 ?" 
Oh ! oh ! Orator Puff, 
One voice for an orator 's surely enough. 



352 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XXXL 



THE GRAHAM SYSTEM. 
ANONYMOUS. 



1. Oh! wondrous age, surpassing ages past! 

When mind is marching at a quick-step pace ; 
When steam and politics are flying fast, 

When roads to rails, and wine to tea give place ; 
When great reformers race, and none can stay 'em — 
Oh ! Jackson, Tappan, Symmes, Sam Patch and Graham ! 

2. The last shall be the first — 'twere shame to think 

That thou, starvation's monarch, could'st be beaten ; 
Who proved that drink was never made to drink, 

Nor food itself intended to be eaten : 
That Heaven provided for our use instead, 
The sand and saw-dust which compose thy bread. 

3. A startling truth ! — we question while we stare — 

A ling'ring doubt still haunts the imagination, 
That God ne'er meant to stint us in our fare ; 

No doubt a prejudice of education ; 
For fact is fact — this ought to make us humble — 
Our brains confess it, though our stomachs grumble. 

4. But why on us pursue thy cruel plan ? 

Oh, why condemn us thus to bread and water ? 
Perchance thou countest all the race of man, 

As rogues and culprits who deserve no quarter ; 
And ? tis thy part to punish, not to spare, 
By putting us upon state-prison fare. 

5. All flesh is poison, in thy sapient eyes ; 

No doubt thou'rt right, and all mankind are wrong ; 
But still, in spite of us, the thought will rise, 
How, eating poison, men have lived so long ; 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 353 

Mayhap thou meanest a slow poison, then, 
Which takes effect at three-score-years-and-ten. 

6. Our table treasures vanish one by one, 

Beneath thy wand, like Sancho's, they retire ; 
Now steaks are rare, and mutton-chops are done, 

Veal's in a stew, the fat is in the fire ; 
Fish, flesh, and fowl are ravish'd in a trice — 
" Insatiate Graham ! could not one suffice 1 " 

7. When wine was banished by the cruel fates, 

Oh, gentle tea, for thee I trembled then ; 
" The cup which, cheers but not inebriates," 

Not even thou must grace our boards again ! 
Imperial is dethroned, as I forboded ; 
Bohea is dish'd, gunpowder is exploded ! 

8. Venison is vile, a cup of coffee curst, 

And food that's fried, or fricasseed, forgot ; 
Duck is destruction, wine of woes is worst, 

Clams are condemned, and poultry's gone to pot ; 
Pudding and pork are under prohibition, 
Mustard is murder, pepper is perdition ! 

9. But dread'st thou not some famished foe may rise, 

With vengeful arm, and break thy daring jaw 1 
Thou robber of our vitals' best supplies, 

Beware ! " there is no joking with the maw," 
Nor hope the world will in thy footsteps follow, 
Thy bread and doctrine are too hard to swallow. 

23 



354 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XXXII. 

MADE TO SELL. 

AKONTM0TJ8. 

1. A fellow, in a market-town, 

Most musical, cried razors, up and down, 
And offered twelve for eighteen-pence ; 
Which, certainly, seem'd wondrous cheap, 
And, for the money, quite a heap, 
. That every man would buy, with cash and sense. 

2. A country bumpkin the great offer heard ; 

Poor Hodge who suffer'd by a broad, black beard, 
That seemed a shoe-brush stuck beneath his nose, 
With cheerfulness the eighteen-pence he paid, 
And proudly to himself in whispers said — 
" This rascal stole the razors, I suppose. 

3. " No matter if the fellow be a knave, 
Provided that the razors shave ; 

It certainly will be a monstrous prize." 
So home the clown, with his good fortune, went 
Smiling, in heart and soul content, 

And quickly soaped himself to ears and eyes. 

4. Being well lathered from a dish or tub, 
Hodge now began with grinning pain to grub, 

Just like a hedger cutting furze ; 
'Twas a vile razor ! — then the rest he tried ; 
All were impostors. "Ah ! " Hodge sighed, 

" I wish my eighteen-pence was in my purse." 

5. In vain, to chase his beard, and bring the graces, 

He cut, and dug, and whined, and stamped, and swore ; 
Brought blood, and danced, blasphemed, and made wry 
faces, 
And cursed each razor's body o'er and o'er. 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 355 

His muzzle, formed of opposition stuff, 
Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff ; 
So kept it, laughing at the steel and suds. 

6. Hodge, in a passion, stretched his angry jaws, 
Vowing the direst vengeance, with clenched claws, 

On the vile cheat that sold the goods. 
" Razors ! " a vile, confounded dog ! 
Not fit to scrape a hog ! " 

7. Hodge sought the fellow, found him, and begun, 
" P'rhaps, Master Razor-rogue, to you 'tis fun, 

That people flay themselves out of their lives ; 
You rascal ! for an hour have I been grubbing, 
Giving my crying whiskers here a scrubbing, 

With razors just like oyster-knives. 

8. " Sirrah ! I tell you, you're a knave, 
To cry up razors that can't shave." 

"Friend," quoth the razor man, "I'm not a knave ; 
As for the razors you have bought, 
Upon my soul, I never thought 

That they would shave." 

9. " Not think they'd shave," quoth Hodge, with wondering 



And voice not much unlike an Indian yell, 
" What were they made for, then, you dog ? " he cries 
"Made," quoth the fellow, witn a smile, " to sell ! " 



356 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XXXIII. 

THE MAD MAN AND HIS RAZOR. 

ANONYMOUS. 

1. His eye was stem and wild, his cheek 

Was pale and cold as clay ; 
Upon his tightened lip a smile 
Of dreadful meaning lay. 

2. He mused awhile, but not in doubt, 

No trace of doubt was there ; 
It was the steady, solemn pause 
Of resolute despair. 

3. Once more he looked upon the scroll, 

Once more its words he read, 
Then calmly, with unflinching hand, 
Its folds before him spread. 

4. 1 saw him bare his throat, and seize 
The blue, cold, glittering steel, 
And grimly try the tempered edge 
He was so soon to feel. 

5. A sickness crept upon my heart, 

And dizzy swam my head ; 

I could not stay, I could not cry, 

I felt benumbed and dead. 

6. Black, icy horror struck me dumb, 

And froze my senses o'er; 
I closed my eyes in utter fear, 
And strove to think no more. 

7. Again I looked — a fearful change 

Across his face had passed ; 
He seemed to gasp — on cheek and lip 
A flaky foam was cast. 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 357 

8. He raised on high the glittering blade — 

Then first I found a tongue : 
" Hold, madman ! stay the frantic deed ! " 
I cried, as forth I sprung. 

9. He heard me, but he heeded not, 

One glance around he gave, 
And ere I could arrest his hand, 
He had begun to shave ! 



LESSON XXXIV. 

FIRM RESOLUTION. 



ANONTMOTTS. 



1. No ! I will never see him more, 

Since thus he likes to roam ; 
And when his cab stops at the door, 

John, say I'm not at home ! 
He smiled last night when Julia smiled, 

(They must have met before,) 
If thus by her he is beguiled, 

I'll never see him more ! 

I'll sing no more the songs he loves, 

Nor play the waltzes o'er ; 
Nor wear the colors he approves, 

I'll never please him more ! 
I'll conquer soon love's foolish flame 

As thousands have before, 
Look strange whene'er I hear his name 

And ne'er pronounce it more ! 



ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

3. The plait of hair I must resign, 

That next my heart I wore ; 
He, too, must yield that tress of mine, 

He stole when truth he swore. 
The miniature I used trace, 

And feel romantic o'er, 
I'll tear from its morocco case, 

And never kiss it more ! 

4. This ring, his gift, I must return, 

(It makes my finger sore !) 
Then there's his letters — those I '11 burn, 

And trample on the floor ! 
His sonnet, that my album graced, 

(My tears thus blot it o'er,) 
The leaves together thus I'll paste, 

And ne'er behold it more ! 

5. I'll waltz and flirt with Ensign G , 

(Though voted oft a bore !) 
In short, I '11 show my heart is free, 

And sigh for him no more ! 
If we should meet, his eye shall shrink 

My scornful glance before ; 
Pshaw ! that's his knock ! here, John, I think 

I'll see him just once more ! 



LESSON XXXV. 

TIT FOR TAT COQUETRY PUNISHED. 

ANONYMOUS. 

1. Ellen was fair, and knew it, too, 
As other village beauties do, 
Whose mirrors never lie; 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 359 

Secure of any swain she chose, 
She smiled on half a dozen beaux, 
And reckless of a lover's woes, 
She cheated these and taunted those 
" For how could any one suppose 
A clown could take her eye ? " 

2. But whispers through the village ran, 
That Edgar was the happy man, 

The maid designed to bless ; 
For, wheresoever moved the fair, 
The youth was, like her shadow, there, 
And rumor boldly matched the pair — 

For village folks will guess. 

3. Edgar did love, but still delayed 
To make confession to the maid, 

So bashful was the youth ; 
But let the flame in secret burn, 
Certain of meeting a return, 
When from his lips the fair should learn, 

Officially, the truth. 

4. At length, one morn, to taste the air, 
The youth and maid, in one horse chair, 

. A long excursion took. 
Edgar had nerved his bashful heart, 
The sweet confession to impart, 
For ah ! suspense had caused a smart, 
He could no longer brook. 

5. He drove, nor slackened once his reins, 
Till Hempstead's wide extended plains 

Seemed joined to skies above ; 
Nor house, nor tree, nor shrub was near. 
The rude and dreary scene to cheer, 



360 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Nor soul within ten miles to hear, 
And still poor Edgar's silly fear, 
Forbade to speak of love. 

6. At last, one desperate effort broke 
The bashful spell, and Edgar spoke, 

With most persuasive tone ; 
Recounted past attendance o'er, 
And then, by all that's lovely, swore 
That he would love for evermore, 

If she'd become his own. 

7. The maid, in silence, heard his prayer, 
Then, with a most provoking air, 

She tittered in his face ; 
And said, " 'Tis time for you to know, 
A lively girl must have a beau, 
Just like a reticule, for show ; 
And at her nod to come and go, 

But he should know his place. 

8. " Your penetration must be dull, 
To let a hope within your skull 

Of matrimony spring. 
Your wife ! ha, ha ! upon my word, 
The thought is laughably absurd, 
As anything I ever heard — 

I never dream'd of such a thing 

9. The lover sudden dropp'd his rein, 
Now on the center of the plain — 

" The linch-pin's out ! " he cried ; 
" Be pleased, one moment, to alight, 
Till I can set the matter right, 

That we may safely ride." 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 361 

10. He said, and handed out the fair, 
Then laughing, crack'd his whip in air, 
And wheeling round his horse and chair, 
Exclaimed, " Adieu, I leave you there 

In solitude to roam." 
" What mean you, sir," the maiden cried, 
" Did you invite me out to ride, 
To leave me here, without a guide 1 

Nay, stop, and take me home." 

11. " What ! take you home ! " exclaim'd the beau, 
" Indeed, my dear, I'd like to know 

How such a hopeless wish could grow, 

Or in your bosom spring ! 
What! take Ellen home? ha, ha! upon my word, 
The thought is laughably absurd, 
As anything I ever heard ; 

I never dream'd of such a thing." 



LESSON XXXVI. 

MARRIAGE PRO AND CON ACCOUNT CURRENT. 



ANONYMOUS. 



WOMAN, DB. 



1. Oh, the woe that woman brings ! 

Source of sorrow, grief, and pain ! 
All our evils have their springs, 
In the first of female train. 

2. Eve, by eating, led poor Adam 

Out of Eden and estray ; 
Look for sorrow still, where madam, 
Pert and proud, directs the way. 
P 



362 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

3. Courtship is a slavish pleasure, 

Soothing a coquettish train ; 
Wedded, what the mighty treasure ? 
Doomed to drag a golden chain. 

4. Noisy clack and constant brawling, 

Discord and domestic strife ; 

Empty cupboard, children bawling, 

Scolding woman made a wife. 

5. Gaudy dress and haughty carriage, 

Love's fond balance fled and gone ; 
These, the bitter fruits of marriage ! 
He that's wise will live alone ! 



CONTRA, OR. 



6. Oh, what joys from woman spring, 

Source of bliss and purest peace ; 
Eden could not comfort bring, 
Till fair woman show'd her face. 

7. When she came, good, honest Adam 

Clasp'd the gift with open arms, 
He left Eden for his madam, 
So our parent prized her charms. 

8. Courtship thrills the soul with pleasure, 

Virtue's blush on beauty's cheek : 
Happy prelude to a treasure 

Kings have left their crowns to seek. 

9. Lovely looks and constant courting, 

Sweet'ning all the toils of life ; 
Cheerful children, harmless sporting, 
Lovely woman made a wife ! 

10. Modest dress and gentle carriage, 
Love triumphant on his throne ; 
These the blissful fruits of marriage — 
None but fools would live alone ! 






COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 363 

LESSON XXXVII. 

ACCOUNT OF A BACHELOR. 
(a PARODY on romeo's APOTHECARY.) 

ANONYMOTTS. 

1. I do remember an old bachelor, 

And hereabouts he dwells; whom late I noted 

In suit of sables, with a care-worn brow, 

Conning his books, and meager were his looks : 

Celibacy had worn him to the bone ; 

And in his silent parlor hung a coat, 

The which the moths had used not less than he. 

2. Four chairs, one table, and an old hair trunk, 
Made up the furniture ; and on his shelves 
A grease-clad candle-stick, a broken mug, 
Two tumblers, and a box of old segars ; 
Eemnants of volumes, once in some repute, 
Were thinly scattered round, to tell the eye 
Of prying stranger, this man had no wife. 

3. His tatter'd elbow gaped most piteously ; 
And ever, as he turned him round, his skin 
Did through his stockings peep upon the day. 
Noting his gloom, unto myself I said, 

And if a man did covet single life, 
Eeckless of joys that matrimony give, 
The sight of this most pitiable wight 
Would make him quick his aim give o'er, 
And seek forthwith a loving wife. 



364 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

lesson xxxvm. 

RHYME OF THE RAIL. 



1. Singing through the forests, 

Battling over ridges, 
Shooting under arches, 

Bumbling over bridges; 
Whizzing through the mountains, 

Buzzing o'er the vale, 
Bless me ! this is pleasant, 

Biding on the rail ! 

2. Men of different stations 

In the eye of fame, 
Here are very quickly 

Coming to the same ; 
High and lowly people, 

Birds of every feather, 
On a common level, 

Traveling together ! 

3. Gentlemen in shorts, 

Looming very tall ; 
Gentlemen at large, 

Talking Very small ; 
Gentlemen in tights, 

With a loose-ish mein ; 
Gentlemen in gray, 

Looking rather green ; 

4. Gentlemen quite old, 

Asking for the news ; 
Gentlemen in black, 
In a fit of blues ; 






COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 

Gentlemen in claret, 

Sober as a vicar ; 
Gentlemen in tweed, 

Dreadfully in liquor ! 

5. Stranger on the right, 

Looking very sunny, 
Obviously reading 

Something rather funny. 
Now the smiles are thicker — ■ 

Wonder what they mean ? 
Faith, he's got the Knicker- 

Bocker magazine ! 

6. Stranger on the left, 

Closing up his peepers ; 
Now he snores amain, 

Like the seven sleepers ; 
At his feet a volume 

Gives the explanation, 
How the man grew stupid 

From "association ! " 

7. Ancient maiden lady 

Anxiously remarks, 
That there must be peril 

'Mong so many sparks *, 
Koguish-looking fellow, 

Turning to the stranger, 
Says it's his opinion, 

She is out of danger ! 

8. Woman with her baby, 

Sitting vis-a-vis; 
Baby keeps a-squalling, 
Woman looks at me ; 



366 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Asks about the distance, 
Says it's tiresome talking, 

Noises of the cars 

Are so very shocking ! 

9. Market woman, careful 

Of the precious casket, 
Knowing eggs are eggs, 

Tightly holds her basket ; 
Feeling that a smash, 

If it came, would surely 
Send her eggs to pot, 

Rather prematurely. 

10, Singing through the forests, 

Rattling over ridges, 
Shooting under arches, 

Rumbling over bridges ; 
Whizzing through the mountains, 

Buzzing o'er the vale — 
Bless me ! this is pleasant, 

Riding on a rail ! 



LESSON XXXIX. 

READING WITH SPECTACLES. 



ANONYMOUS. 



A certain artist, I've forgot his name, 

Had got, for making spectacles, a fame, 

Or " helps to read," as, when they first were sold, 

Was writ upon his glaring sign in gold ; 

And, for all uses to be had from glass, 

His were allowed by readers to surpa* . 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 367 

2. There came a man into his shop one day : 
" Are you the spectacle contriver, pray 1 " 
" Yes, sir," said he, " I can in that affair 
Contrive to please you, if you want a pair." 

" Can you ? pray do, then." So, at first, he chose 

To place a youngish pair upon his nose : 

And book produced, to see how they would fit ; 

Asked how he liked 'em? " Like 'em — not a bit." 

" Then, sir, I fancy, if you please to try, 

These in my hand will better suit your eye." 

" No, but they don't." " Well, come, sir, if you please, 

Here is another sort, we'll e'en try these ; 

Still somewhat more they magnify the letter ; 

Now, sir ! " " Why, now I'm not a bit the better." 

" No ! here, take these that magnify still more ; 

How do they fit 1 " " Like all the rest before." 

In short, they tried a whole assortment through, 

But all in vain, for none of 'em would do. 

3. The operator, much surprised to find 

So odd a case, thought, sure the man is blind : 
" What sort of eyes can you have got 1 " said he, 
" Why, very good ones, friend, as you may see." 
" Yes, I perceive the clearness of the ball ; 
Pray, let me ask you, can you read at all % " 
" No, you great blockhead ! if I could, what need 
Of paying you for any 'helps to read'?'" 
And so he left the maker in a heat, 
Resolved to post him for an arrant cheat. 



$68 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XL. 

FRENCHMAN IN TROUBLE. 
ANONYMOUS. 

1. A Frenchman once, who was a merry wight, 
Passing to town from Dover in the night, 
Near the roadside an ale-house chanced to spy, 
And being rather tired as well as dry, 
Resolved to enter ; but first he took a peep, 
In hopes a supper he might get, and cheap. 
He enters : " Hallo ! Garcon, if you please, 
Bring me a little bit of bread and cheese. 

And, hallo ! Garcon, a pot of porter, too," he said 
"Vich I shall take, and den myself to bed." 

2. His supper done, some scraps of cheese were left, 
Which our poor Frenchman, thinking it no theft, 
Into his pocket put ; then slowly crept 

To wished-for bed ; but not a wink he slept ; 
For, on the floor some sacks of flour were laid, 
To which the rats a nightly visit paid. 
Our hero now undressed, popped out the light, 
Put on his cap, and bade the world good night ; 
But first his breeches, which contained the fare, 
Under his pillow he had placed with care. 

3. Sans ceremonie, soon the rats all ran, 
And on the flour-sacks greedily began ; 

At which they gorged themselves, then smelling round, 

Under the pillow soon the cheese they found ; 

And while at this they regaling sat, 

Their happy jaws disturbed the Frenchman's nap ; 

Who, half awake, cried out, " Hallo ! hallo ! 

Vat is dat nibbel at my pillow so 1 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 369 

Ah ! 'tis one big huge rat ! 

Vat de diable is it he nibbel, nibbel at 1 " 

4. In vain our little hero sought repose ; 
Sometimes the vermin galloped o'er his nose ; 
And such the pranks they kept up all the night, 
That he, on end antipodes upright, 

Bawling aloud, called stoutly for a light. 

" Hallo ! Maison ! Garcon, I say ! 

Bring me- the bill for vat I have to pay ! " 

The bill was brought, and to his great surprise, 

Ten shillings was the charge : he scarce believes his eyes. 

With eager haste he runs it o'er, 

And every time he viewed it thought it more. 

5. " Vy zounds, and zounds ! " he cries, " I shall no pay ; 
Vat ! charge ten shelangs for vat I have mange 1 

A leetal sup of porter, dis vile bed, 
Vare all de rats do run about my head ! " 
" Plague on those rats ! " the landlord muttered out ; 
." I wish, upon my word, that I could make 'em scout : 
I'll pay him well that can." " Vat's dat you say ? " 
" I'll pay him well that can." " Attend to me, I pray ; 
Vil you dis charge forego, vat I am at, 
If from your house I drive away de rat ? " 
" With all my heart," the jolly host replies ; 
" Ecoutez done, ami ; " the Frenchman cries. 
" First, den, Regardez, if you please, 
Bring to dis spot a leetal bread and cheese, 
Eh bien ! a pot of porter, too ; 
And den invite de rats to sup vid you ; 
And after — no matter dey be villing — 
For vat dey eat you charge dem just ten shelang ; 
And I am sure, ven dey behold de score, 
Dey'll quit your house, and never come no more." 
P* 24 



370 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XLI. 

SAM SMITH'S SOLILOQUY. 

FANNY PEEN. 

1. Certainly — matrimony is an invention of . Well, 

no matter who invented it. I'm going to try it. Where's my 
blue coat with the bright, brass buttons ? The woman has yet 
to be born who can resist that ; and my buff vest and neck-tie, 
too : may I be shot if I don't offer them both to the little 
Widow Pardiggle this very night. " Pardiggle ! " Phoebus ! 
what a name for such a rose-bud. I'll re-christen her by the 
euphonious name of Smith. She'll have me, of course. She 
wants a husband — I want a wife : there's one point already in 
which we perfectly agree. 

2. I hate preliminaries. I suppose it is unnecessary for me 
to begin with the amatory alphabet. With a widow, I suppose 
you can skip the rudiments. Say what you've got to say in a 
fraction of a second. Women grow as mischievous as Satan 
if they think you are afraid of them. Do / look as if / were 
afraid? Just examine the growth of my whiskers. The 
Bearded Lady could n't hold a candle to them, (though I won- 
der she don't to her own.) Afraid? h-m-m! I feel as if I 
could conquer Asia. 

3. What the mischief ails this cravat ? It must be the cold 
that makes mv hand tremble so : there — that '11 do : that's 
quite an inspiration. Brummel himself couldn't go beyond 
that. Now for the widow ; bless her little round face ! I 'm 
immensely obliged to old Pardiggle for giving her quit claim. 
I'll make her as happy as a little robin. 

4. Do you think I'd bring a tear into her lovely blue eye 1 
Do you think I 'd sit after tea, with my back to her, and my 
feet upon the mantel, staring up chimney for three hours to- 
gether 1 Do you think I'd leave her blessed little side, to dan- 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 371 

gle round oyster-saloons and theaters ? Do I look like a man 
to let a woman flatten her pretty little nose against the win- 
dow-pane night after night, trying to see me reel up street ? 
No. Mr. and Mrs. Adam were not more beautiful in their 
nuptial-bower, than I shall be with the Widow Pardiggle. 



5. Refused by a widow ! Who ever heard of such a thing % 
Well ; there's one comfort : nobody '11 ever believe it. She is 
not so very pretty after all : her eyes are too small, and her 
hands are rough and red-dy : — not so very ready either, con- 
found the gipsy. What amazing pretty shoulders she has ! 
Well, who cares % 

" If she be not fair to me, 
What care I how fair she be ? " 

Ten to one, she 'd have set up that wretch of a Pardiggle for 
my model. Who wants to be Pardiggle 2d J I am glad she 
didn't have me. I mean, I'm glad I didn't have Tier. 



LESSON XLII. 

THE MAN AND HIS TWO WIVES. 



It happened once a certain man 
Adopted the illegal plan, 
Which still 'mongst heathen men survives, 
Of having ('stead of one) two wives ; 
But not with wisdom, you will say. 
Two wives he took : the one was young, 
And grace and beauty round her hung ; 
The other was an ancient bride, 
And walking on life's down-hill side : 



372 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

They lived together, in one house, 
And tried their best to please their spouse 
Each treated him with tender care, 
Prepared his food and combed his hair. 
These offices they shared, no doubt, 
In equal turns, week "in, week out. 
The young wife blushed to have it said, 
That she had married a gray head ; 
So, when the combing was her share, 
She slily pluck'd out each white hair. 

2. The elder dame was pleased to see 
Her husband look as old as she ; 

So sought, when dressing up his pate, 
The black ones to eradicate ; 
For much she feared each gossip scold 
Would call him young, and call her old. 

3. The worthy man was sadly placed, 
His youth despised, his age disgraced ; 
He found (such things the best befall) 
He 'd better have no wife at all ; 

For while each stood up for her right, 
He lost his hair, both black and white ; 
And ere an old man he had grown, 
He'd lost the honors of his crown. 

MORAL. 

Those who would a new wife wed, 
Should wait until the other's dead. 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 373 

LESSON XLm. 



Honest William, an easy and good-natured fellow, 

Would a little too oft get a little too mellow ; 

Body coachman he was to an eminent brewer — 

No better e'er sat on a box, to be sure. 

His coach was kept clean, and no mothers or nurses 

Took that care of their babies he took of his horses, 

He had these — ay, and fifty good qualities more ; 

But the business of tippling could ne'er be got o'er ; 

So his master effectually mended the matter, 

By hiring a man who drank nothing but water. 

Now, William, says he, you see the plain case ; 

Had you drank as he does, you'd kept a good place. 

Drink water ! quoth William, had all men done so, 

You'd never have wanted a coachman, I trow. 

They 're soakers, like me, whom you load with reproaches, 

That enable you brewers to ride in your coaches. 



LESSON XLIV. 

THE OLD HAT. 

ANONTMOU3. 

1. I had a hat — it was not all a hat — 

Part of the brim was gone, yet still, I wore 
It on, and people wondered, as I passed. 
Some turned to gaze ; others just cast an eye, 
And soon withdrew it, as 'twere in contempt ; 
But still my hat, although so fhshionless, 



374 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

In complement extern, had that within, 
Surpassing show ; my head continued warm ; 
Being sheltered from the weather, spite of all 
The want (as has been said,) of brim. 

2. A change came o'er the color of my hat. 

That, which was black, grew brown, and then men stared 
With both their eyes (they stared with one before ;) 
The wonder now was two-fold ; and it seemed 
Strange, that things so torn and old, should still 

Be worn, by one who might but let that pass ! 

I had my reasons, which might be revealed, 

But, for some counter reasons far more strong, 

Which tied my tongue to silence. Time passed on. 

Green spring, and flowery summer, autumn brown, 

And frosty winter came — and went, and came — 

And still, through all the seasons of two years, 

In park, in city, yea, in routs and balls, 

The hat was worn, and borne. Then folks grew wild 

With curiosity ; and whispers rose, 

And questions passed about, how one so trim 

In coats, boots, pumps, gloves, trousers, could ensconce 

His caput in a covering so vile. 

3. A change came o'er the nature of my hat. 
Grease-spots appeared ; but still, in silence, on 
I wore it ; and then family and friends 
Glared madly at each other. There was one, 
Who said — but hold — no matter what was said, 

A time may come, when I away — away ! 

Not till the season's ripe can I reveal 
Thoughts that do lie too deep for common minds. 
Till then, the world shall not pluck out the heart 
Of this, my mystery. When I will — I will ! 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 375 

The hat was now greasy, and old, and torn ; 
But torn, old, greasy, still I wore it on. 

A change came o'er the business of this hat. 
Women, and men, and children, scowled on me ; 
My company was shunned — I was alone 
Non$ would associate with such a hat ; 
Friendship itself proved faithless, for a hat. 
She, that I loved, within whose gentle breast 
I treasured up my heart, looked cold as death ; 
Love's fires went out — extinguished by a hat. 
Of those, that knew me best, some turned aside, 
And scudded down dark lanes ; one man did place 
His finger on his nose's side, and jeered ; 
Others, in horrid mockery, laughed outright ; 
Yea, dogs, deceived by instinct's dubious ray, 
Fixing their swart glare on my ragged hat, 
Mistook me for a beggar, and they barked. 
Thus, women, men, friends, strangers, lover, dogs, 
One thought pervaded all — it was my hat. 

A change — it was the last — came o'er this hat. 

For lo ! at length, the circling months went round, 

The period was accomplished ; and one day 

This tattered, brown, old, greasy coverture, 

(Time had endeared its vileness,) was transferred 

To the possession of a wandering son 

Of Israel's fated race ; and friends once more 

Greeted my digits, with the wonted squeeze : 

Once more I went my way — along — along — 

And plucked no wondering gaze ; the hand of scorn, 

With its annoying finger — men, and dogs, 

Once more grew doubtless, jokeless, laughless, growlless : 

And last, not least of rescued blessings, love— 



376 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Love smiled on me again, when I assumed 
A bran new beaver of the Andre mould ; 
And then the laugh was mine, for then came out 
The secret of this strangeness — 'twas a bet. 



LESSON XLV. 

DOCTOR AND PUPIL. 

ANONTMOTTS. 

1. A pupil of the Esculapian school, 

Was just prepared to quit his master's rule ; 
Not that he knew his trade, as it appears, 
But that he then had learnt it seven years. 

2. One morn he thus addressed his master : 
" Dear sir, my honored father bids me say, 
If I could now and then a visit pay, 

He thinks, with you, to notice how you do, 
My business I might learn a little faster." 

3. " The thought is happy," the preceptor cries ; 
" A better method he could scarce devise ; 
So Bob," (his pupil's name,) " it shall be so ; 
And when I next pay visits, you shall go." 
To bring that hour, alas ! time briskly fled : 
With dire intent, away they went, 

And now, behold them at a patient's bed. 

4. The master-doctor solemnly perused 

His victim's face, and o'er his symptoms mused ; 
Looked wise, said nothing — an unerring way, 
When people nothing have to say : 
Then felt his pulse, and smelt his cane, 
And paused, and blinked, and smelt again, 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 377 

And briefly of his corps performed each motion ; 
Manceuvers that for death's platoon are meant : 
A. kind of a make-ready-and-present, 

Before the fell discharge of pill and potion. 

5. At length, the patient's wife he thus addressed : 
" Madam, your husband's danger 's great, 

And (what will never his complaint abate,) 
The man 's been eating oysters, I perceive." 
" Dear ! you 're a witch, I verily believe," 
Madam replied, and to the truth confessed. 

6. Skill so prodigious, Bobby, too, admired ; 
And home returning, of the sage inquired 

How these same oysters came into his head 1 
" Pshaw ! my dear Bob, the thing was plain ; 
Sure, that can ne'er distress thy brain ; 

I saw the shells lie underneath the bed." 

7. So wise by such a lesson grown, 
Next day Bob ventured out alone, 

And to the self-same sufferer paid his court ; 
But soon, with haste and wonder out of breath, 
Returned the stripling minister of death, 

And to his master made this dread report : 

8. " Why, sir, we ne'er can keep that patient under ; 

Zounds ! such a man I never came across ! 
The fellow must be dying — and no wonder, 
For ne'er believe me if he hasn't eat a horse ! " 

9. " A horse ! " the elder man of physic cried, 
As if he meant his pupil to deride ; 

" How got so wild a notion in your head % " 
" How ! — think not in my duty I was idle ; 

Like you, I took a peep beneath the bed. 
And there I saw a saddle and a bridle!' 



378 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XLVI. 

ADDRESS TO DR MOYCE, BY THE LADIES. . 

1. Dear doctor, let it not transpire, 
How much your lectures we admire ; 
How, at your eloquence we wonder, 
When you explain the cause of thunder, 
Of lightning, and electricity, 

With so much plainness and simplicity ; 
The origin of rocks, and mountains, 
Of seas, and rivers, lakes, and fountains ; 
Of rain, and hail, and frost, and snow, 
And all the storms, and winds that blow ; 
Besides a hundred wonders more, 
Of which we never heard before. 

2. But now, dear doctor, not to natter, 
There is a most important matter ; 

A matter which our thoughts run much on, 
A matter which you never touch on, 
A subject, if we right conjecture, 
That well deserves a long, long lecture, 
Which all the ladies would approve — 
The natural history of love ! 
Deny us not, dear Doctor Moyce ! 
Oh, list to our entreating voice ! 
Tell us why our poor, tender hearts, 
So easily admit love's darts. 
Teach us the marks of love's beginning, 
What makes us think a beau so winning ; 
What makes us think a coxcomb witty, 
A black coat wise, a red coat pretty ! 
Why we believe such horrid lies, 
That we are angels from the skies, 









COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 379 

Our teeth like pearl, our cheeks like roses, 
Our eyes like stars, such charming noses ! 
Explain our dreams, awake and sleeping, 
Explain our blushing, laughing, weeping. 

3. Teach us, dear doctor, if you can, 
To humble that proud creature, man ; 
To turn the wise ones into fools, 
The proud and insolent to tools ; 
To make them all run, helter skelter, 
Their necks into the marriage halter : 
Then leave us to ourselves with these, 
We '11 turn and rule them as we please. 
Dear doctor, if you grant our wishes, 
We promise you five hundred kisses ; 
And, rather than the affair be blundered, 
We 'U give you six-score to the hundred. 



LESSON XLVU. 

A DECEIVER DECEIVED. 



Sir Christopher. And so, friend Blackletter, you are just 
come from college % 

Quiz. Yes, sir. 

Sir. Ch. Ah, Mr. Blackletter, I once loved the name of a 
college, until my sou proved so worthless. 

Quiz. In the name of all the literati, what do you mean 1 
You fond of books, and not bless your stars in giving you 
such a son ! 

Sir Ch. Ah, sir, he was once a youth of promise. But do 
you know him ? 






380 



ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 



Quiz. What! Frederick Classic? ay, that I do, heaven 
be praised ! 

Sir Ch. I tell you, Mr. Blackletter, he is wonderfully 
changed. 

Quiz. And a lucky change for him. What ! I suppose he 
was once a wild young fellow % 

Sir Ch. No, sir, you don't understand me, or I don't you. 
I tell you, he neglects his studies, and is foolishly in love ; for 
which I shall certainly cut him off with a shilling. 

Quiz. You surprise me, sir. I must beg leave to unde- 
ceive you ; you are either out of your senses, or some wicked 
enemy of his has undoubtedly done him this injury. Why, 
sir, he is in love, I grant you, but it is only with his book. 
He hardly allows himself time to eat ; and as for sleep, he 
scarcely takes two hours in the twenty-four. This is a thumper; 
for the dog has not looked into a book these six months, to my 
certain knowledge. (Aside.) 

Sir Ch. I have received a letter from Farmer Downright 
this very day, who tells me he has received a letter from him, 
containing proposals for his daughter. 

Quiz. This is very strange. I left him at college, as close 
to his books as — oh, oh — I believe I can solve this mystery, 
and much to your satisfaction. 

Sir Ch. I should be vqry happy, indeed, if you could. 

Quiz. Oh, as plain as that two and three are five. T is 
thus : An envious fellow, a rival of your son's — a fellow who 
has not as much sense in his whole corporation, as your son 
has in his little finger — yes, I heard this very fellow ordering 
a messenger to Farmer Downright with a letter ; and this is, 
no doubt, the very one. Why, sir, your son will certainly sur* 
pass the Admirable Crichton. Sir Isaac Newton will be a per 
feet automaton, compared with him ; and the sages of antiquity, 
if resuscitated, would hang their heads in despair. 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 381 

Sir Ch. Is it possible that my son is now at college, ma- 
king these great improvements % 

Quiz. Ay, that he is, sir. 

Sir Ch. (Rubbing his hands.) Oh, the dear fellow ! the 
dear fellow ! 

Quiz. Sir, you may turn to any part of Homer, and repeat 
one line, he will take it up, and, by dint of memory, continue 
repeating to the end of the book. 

Sir Ch. Well, well, well ! I find I was doing him great 
injustice. However, I'll make him ample amends. Oh, the 
dear fellow ! the dear fellow ! the dear fellow ! — (with great 
joy) — he will be immortalized ; and so shall I ; for if I had 
not cherished the boy's genius in embryo, he would never have 
soared above mediocrity. 

Quiz. True, sir. 

Sir Ch. I cannot but think what superlative pleasure. I 
shall have, when my son has got his education. No other 
man's in England shall be comparative with it, of that I am pos- 
itive. Why, sir, the moderns are such dull, plodding, sense- 
less barbarians, that a man of learning is as hard to be found 
as the unicorn. 

Quiz. 'Tis much to be regretted, sir ; but such is the la- 
mentable fact. 

-* Sir Ch. Even the shepherds, in days of yore, spoke their 
mother tongue in Latin ; and now, hie, hcec, hoc, is as little un- 
derstood as the language of the moon. 

Quiz. Your son, sir, will be a phenomenon, depend upon it. 

Sir Ch. So much the better, so much the better. I ex- 
pected soon to have been in the vocative ; for, you know, you 
found me in the accusative case, and that's very near it — ha ! 
ha! ha! 

Quiz. You have reason to be merry, sir, I promise you. 

Sir Ch. I have, indeed. Well, I shall leave off interjec- 
tions, and promote an amicable conjunction with the dear fel- 



382 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

low. Oh ! we shall never think of addressing each other in 
plain English — no, no, we will converse in the pure classical 
language of the ancients. You remember the Eclogues of Vir- 
gil, Mr. Blackletter 1 

Quiz. Oh, yes, sir, perfectly ; have 'em at my finger ends. 
Not a bit of a one did I ever hear of in my life. [Aside.) 

Sir Ch. How sweetly the first of them begins ! 

Quiz. Very sweetly, indeed, sir. (Aside.) Bless me, I wish 
he would change the subject. 

Sir Ch. "Tytere tu patulce recubans ;" faith, 'tis more mu- 
sical than fifty hand-organs. 

Quiz. (Aside.) I had rather hear a jewsharp. 

Sir Ch. Talking of music, though — the Greek is the lan- 
guage for that. 

Quiz. Truly, it is. 

•Sir Ch. Even the conjugations of the verbs far excel the 
finest sonata of Pleyel or Handel. Eor instance, " tup to, tupso, 
tutupha? Can anything be more musical ? 

Quiz. Nothing. " Stoop low, stoop so, stoop too far." 

Sir Ch, Ha! ha! ha! "Stoop too far!" That's a 
good one. 

Quiz. (Aside.) Faith, I have stooped too far. All 's over 
now, by Jupiter ! 

Sir Ch. Ha! ha! ha! a plaguy good pun, Mr. Blackletter. 

Quiz. Tolerable. (Aside.) I am well out of that scrape, 
however. 

Sir Ch, Pray, sir, which of the classics is your favorite 1 

Quiz. Why, sir, Mr. Frederick Classic, I think — he is so 
great a scholar. 

Sir Ch. Po ! po ! you don't understand me. I mean, 
which of the Latin classics do you admire most ? 

Quiz. Hang it ! what shall I say now % (Aside.) The 
Latin classics ? Oh, really, sir, I admire them all so much, it 
is difficult to say. 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 383 

Sir Ch. Virgil is my favorite. How very expressive is 
his description of the unconquerable passion of Queen Dido, 
where he says, "ITceret lateri lethalis arundo ! " Is not that 
very expressive ] 

Quiz. Very expressive, indeed, sir. (Aside.) I wish we 
were forty miles asunder. I shall never be able to hold out 
much longer, at this rate. 

Sir Ch. And Ovid is not without his charms. 

Quiz. He is not, indeed, sir. 

Sir Ch. And what a dear, enchanting fellow Horace is ! 

Quiz. Wonderfully so ! 

Sir Ch. Pray, what do you think of Xenophon 1 

Quiz. Who the plague is he, I wonder '? (Aside.) Xeno- 
phon ! Oh, think he unquestionably wrote good Latin, sir. 

Sir Ch. Good Latin, man ! he wrote Greek — good Greek, 
you meant. 

Quiz. True, sir, I did. Latin, indeed ! (In great confu- 
sion^) I meant Greek ; did I say Latin % I really meant 
Greek. (Aside.) Bless me ! I don't know what I mean 
myself. 

Sir Ch. Oh, Mr. Blackletter, I have been trying a long 
time to remember the name of one of Achilles' horses, but I 
cau't for my life think of it. You doubtless can tell me. 

Quiz. O yes, Ins name was — but which of them do you 
mean 1 What was he called 1 

Sir Ch. What was he called 1 Why, that's the very thing 
I wanted to know. The one I allude to was born- of the Harpy 
Celaeno. I can't for the blood of me, tell it. 

Quiz. (Aside.) Bless me ! if I can either. (To him.) 
Born of the Harpy — oh ! his name was — (striking his fore- 
head^) Gracious! I forget it now. His name was — was — 
was — strange ! 'tis as familiar to me as my A, B, C. 

Sir Ch. Oh! I remember — 'twas Xanthus, Xanthus — 



384 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

I remember now — 't was Xanthus — plague o' the name ! — 
that's it. 

Quiz. Egad ! so it is. " Thankus, Thankus " — that 's it. 
Strange, I could not remember it ! [Aside.) 'T would have 
been stranger, if I had. 

Sir Ch. You seem at times a little absent, Mr. Black- 
letter. 

Quiz. Dear me ! I wish I was absent altogether. [Aside.) 

Sir Ch. We shall not disagree about learning, sir. I dis- 
cover you are a man, not only of profound learning, but cor- 
rect taste. 

Quiz. (Aside.) I am glad you have found that out, for I 
never should. I came here to quiz the old fellow, and he '11 
quiz me, I fear. (To him.) O, by the by, I have been so con- 
fused — I mean, so confounded — pshaw! so much engrossed 
with the contemplation of the Latin classics, I had almost for- 
gotten to give you a letter from your son. 

Sir Ch. Bless me, sir ! why did you delay that pleasure 
so long % 

Quiz. I beg pardon, sir ; here 'tis. ( Gives a letter.) 

Sir Ch. [Puts on his spectacles, and reads.) " To Miss 
Clara." 

Quiz. No, no, no — that's not it — here 'tis. [Takes the 
letter, and gives him another.) 

Sir Ch. What ! are you the bearer of love epistles, too, 
Mr. Blackletter 1 

Quiz. (Aside.) What a horrid blunder ! ( To him.) Oh, 
no, sir: that letter is from a female cousin at a boarding- 
school, to Miss Clara Upright — no, Downright — that's the 
name. . 

Sir Ch. Truly, she writes a good masculine fist. Well, 
let me see what my boy has to say. (Reads.) 

" Dear Father : — There is a famous Greek manuscript just 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 385 

come to light. I must have it. The price is about a thousand 
dollars. Send me the money by the bearer." 

Short and sweet. There's a letter for you, in the true La- 
cedaemonian style — laconic. Well, the boy shall have it, were 
it ten times as much. I should like to see this Greek manu- 
script. Pray, sir, did you ever see it ? 

Quiz. I can't say I ever did, sir. [Aside.) This is the 
only truth I have been able to edge in yet. 

Sir Ch. I '11 just send to my bankers for the money. In 
the mean time, we will adjourn to my library. I have been 
much puzzled with an obscure passage in Livy. We must lay 
our heads together for a solution. But I am sorry you are 
addicted to such absence of mind at times. 

Quiz. 'T is a misfortune, sir ; but I am addicted to greater 
than that, at times. 

Sir Ch. Ah! what's that] 

Quiz. I am sometimes addicted to an absence of body. 

Sir Ch. As how"? 

Quiz. Why, thus, sir. [Takes up his hat and stick, and 
walks off.) 

Sir Ch. Ha ! ha ! ha ! that's an absence of body, sure 
enough — an absence of body with vengeance ! A very merry 
fellow this. He will be back for the money, I suppose, pres- 
ently. He is, at all events, a very modest man, not fond of 
expressing his opinion — but that's a mark of merit. 



LESSON XLVIU. 

CAPTAIN TACKLE JACK B0WLIN. 

ANONTMOTJ3. 

Boivlin. Good day to your honor. 
Captain. Good day, honest Jack. 
Bowl. To-day is my captain's birth-day. 

Q 25 



386 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Capt. I know it. 

Bowl. I am heartily glad on the occasion. 

Capt. I know that, too. 

Bowl. Yesterday your honor broke your sea-foam pipe. 

Capt. Well, sir booby, and why must be I put in mind of 
it? it was stupid euough, to be sure, but hark ye, Jack, all men 
at times do stupid actions, but I never met with one who liked 
to be reminded of them. 

Bowl. I meant no harm, your honor. It was only a kind 
of introduction to what I was going to say. I have been buy- 
ing this pipe-head and ebony tube, and if the thing is not too 
bad, and my captain will take such a present on his birth-day 
for the sake of poor old Jack 

Capt. Is that what you would be at — come, let's see. 

Bowl. To be sure it is not sea-foam. ; but my captain must 
think when he looks at it, that the love of old Jack was not 
mere foam neither. 

Capt. Give it here, my honest fellow. 

Bowl. You will take it ? 

Capt. To be sure I will. 

Bowl. And will smoke it? 

Capt. That I will. {Feeling in his pocket.) 

Bowl. And will not think of giving me anything in return? 

Capt. ( Withdrawing his hand from his pocket.) No, 
no. You are right. 

Bowl. Huzza ! now let mother Grimkin bake her almond 
cakes out of her daily pilferings and be hanged. 

Capt. Fie, Jack ! what's that you say ? 

Bowl. The truth. I have just come from the kitchen, 
where she is making a great palaver about " her cake," and 
" her cake," and yet this morning she must be put in mind that 
it was her master's birth-day. Hang me, I have thought of 
nothing else this month, 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 387 

Capt. And because you have a better memory, you must 
blame the poor old woman. Shame on you, Jack. 

Bowl. Please your honor, she is an old 

Capt. Avast ! 

Bowl. Yesterday she made your wine cordial of sour beer, 
so to-day she makes you an almond cake of 

Capt. Hold your tongue, sir — hold your tongue. 

Bowl. Aint you obliged to beg the necessaries of life as if 
she were a pope or an admiral ? And last year when you was 
bled, though she had laid up chest upon chest fell of linen, and 
all yours, if the truth was known, yet no bandage was found 
till I tore the square canvas from my Sunday shirt to rig your 
honor's arm. 

Capt. You are a scandalous fellow. {Throws the pipe 
back to him.) Away with you and the pipe to the dogs. 

Bowl. [Looking attentively at his master and the pipe.) I 
am a scandalous fellow ? 

Capt. Yes ! 

Bowl. Your honor will not have the pipe % 

Capt. No ; I will take nothing from him who would raise 
his own character at the expense of another old servant. (Jack 
takes up the pipe and throws it out of the window?) What are 
you doing ? 

Boivl. Throwing the pipe out of the window. 

Capt. Are you mad 1 

Bowl. Why, what should I do with it ? You will not have 
it, and it is impossible for me to use it, for as often as I should 
puff away the smoke, I should think, " old Jack Bowlin, what 
a pitiful scamp you must be, a man whom you have served 
honestly and truly these thirty years, and who must know you 
from stem to stern, says you are a scandalous fellow," and the 
thought would make me weep like a child. But when the 
pipe is gone, I shall try to forget the whole business, and say 



388 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

to myself, " my poor old captain is sick, and does not mean 
what he said." 

Capt. Jack, come here. ( Takes his hand.) I did not mean 
what I said. 

Boid. [Shakes his hand heartily.) I knew it, I knew it. 
I have you and your honor at heart, and when I see such an 
old hypocritical bell-wether cheating you out of your hard- 
earned wages, it makes my blood boil — 

Capt. Are you at it again ? Shame on you. You have 
opened your heart to-day, and given me a peep into its lowest 
hold. 

Bowl. $o much the better ; for you will then see that my 
ballast is love and truth to my master. But hark ye, master, 
it is certainly worth your while to inquire into the business. 

Capt. And hark ye, fellow, if I find you have told me a 
lie, I'll have no mercy on you. I'll turn you out of doors to 
starve in the street. 

Bowl. No, captain, you won't do that. 

Capt. But I tell you I will, though. I will do it. And if 
you say another word, I'll do it now. 

Bowl. Well, then away goes old Jack to the hospital. 

Capt. What's that you say % hospital % hospital, you ras- 
cal % what will you do there ? 

Bowl. Die. 

Capt. And so you will go and die in a hospital, will you ? 
Why — why — you lubber, do you think I cant take care of you 
after I have turned you out of doors, hey % 

Bowl. Yes, I dare say you would be willing to pay my 
board, and take care that I did not want in my old days ; but 
I had rather beg than pick up money so thrown at me. 

Capt. Rather beg ! there's a proud rascal ! 

Bowl. He that don't love me must not give me money. 

Capt. Do you hear that 1 Is not this enough to give a 
sound man the gout ? You sulky fellow, do you recollect 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 389 

twenty years ago, when we fell into the clutches of the Alge- 
rines ? The pirates stripped me of my last jacket, but you 
lubber, who was it hid two pieces of gold in his hair, and who 
was it that, half a year afterward, when we were ransomed 
and turned naked on the world, shared his money and clothes 
with me 1 Hey, fellow, and now you would die in a hospital. 

Boivl. Nay, but captain — 

Capt. And when my ship's crew mutinied, at the risk 
of his life he disclosed the plot. Have you forgotten it, you 
lubber ? 

Bowl. Well, and did n't you build my old mother a house 
for it 1 

Capt. And when we had boarded the French privateer, and 
the captain's hanger hung over my head, did n't you strike off 
the arm that was going to split my skull 1 Have you forgot 
that, too 1 Have I built you a house for that % Will you die 
in a hospital now, you ungrateful dog, hey ? 

Boivl. My good old master ! 

Capt. Would you have it set on my tombstone, " here lies 
an unthankful hound who let his preserver and messmate die in 
a hospital," would you 1 Tell me this minute, you will live 
and die by me, you lubber ! Come here and give me your 
hand. 

Bowl. (Going toward him.) My noble, noble master. 

Capt. Avast. Stand off, take care of my lame leg ; yet I 
had rather you should hurt that than my heart, my old boy. 
(Shakes his hand heartily.) Now go and bring me the pipe. 
Stop, let me lean on you, and I will go down and get it myself, 
and use it on my birth-day. You would die in a hospital, 
would you, you unfeeling lubber % 



390 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

LESSON XLIX. 

ROBIN ROUGHHEAD SNACKS VILLAGERS. 

ALLINGHAM. . 

{Robin Roughhead discovered raking hay.) 

Robin. Ah ! work, work, work, all day long, and no such 
thing as stopping a moment to rest ! for there's old Snacks, the 
steward, always upon the look-out ; and if he sees one, slap he 
has it down in his book, and then there's a sixpence gone plump; 
(comes forward.) I do hate that old chap, and that's the truth 
on't. Now, if I was lord of this place, I'd make one rule — 
there should be no such thing as work ; it should be one long 
holiday all the year round. Your great folks have strange 
whims in their heads, that's for sartin. I don't know what to 
make of 'em, not I. Now there 's all yon great park there, 
kept for his lordship to look at, and his lordship has not seen 
it these twelve years. Ah ! if it was mine, I'd let all the villa- 
gers turn their cows in there, and it should not cost 'em a far- 
thing ; then, as the parson said last Sunday, I should be as rich 
as any in the land, for I should have the blessings of the poor. 
Dang it ! here comes Snacks. Now I shall get a fine jobation, 
I suppose. (Enter Snacks, bowing very obsequiously ; Robin 
takes his hat off, and stands staring at him.) 

Rob. I be main, tired, Master Snacks ; so I stopt to rest 
myself a little. I hope you'll excuse it. I wonder "what the 
dickens he's grinning at. (Aside.) 

Snacks. Excuse it ? I hope your lordship's infinite good- 
ness and condescension will excuse your lordship's most obse- 
quious, devoted, and very humble servant, Timothy Snacks, 
who has come into the presence of your lordship, for the pur- 
pose of informing your lordship — 

Rob. Lordship ! he, he, he ! Well, I never knew I had a 
hump before. Why, Master Snacks, you grow funny in your 
old age. 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 391 

Snacks. No, my lord, I know my duty better ; I should 
never think of being funny with a lord. 

Bob. What lord % Oh, you mean the Lord Harry, I sup- 
pose. No, no, must not be too funny with him, or he'll be 
after playing the very deuce with you. 

Snacks. I say I should never think of jesting with a person 
of your lordship's dignified character. 

Bob. Dig — dig — what ! Why, now I look at you, I see 
how it is ; you are mad. I wonder what quarter the moon 's 
in. Dickens ! how your eyes do roll ! I never saw you so 
before. How came they to let you out alone ? 

Snacks. Your lordship is most graciously pleased to be 
facetious. 

. Bob. Wiry, what gammon are you at? Don't come near 
me, for you have been bit by a mad dog •, I'm sure you have. 

Snacks. If your lordship will be so kind as to read this 
letter, it would convince your lordship. Will your lordship 
condescend % 

Bob. Why, I would condescend, but for a few reasons, and 
one of 'em is, that I can't read. 

Snacks. I think your lordship is perfectly right ; for these 
pursuits are too low for one of your lordship's nobility. 

Bob. Lordship, and lordship again! I'll tell you what, 
Master Snacks — let's have no more of your fun, for I won't 
stand it any longer, for all you be steward here : my name 's 
Robin Koughhead, and if you don't choose to call me by that 
name, I shan't answer you, that's flat. — I don't like him well 
enough to stand his jokes. [Aside.) 

Snacks. Why then, Master Robin, be so kind as to attend 
whilst I read this letter. (Beads.) 

"Sir, — This is to inform you, that my lord Lackwit died 
this morning, after a very short illness ; during which he de- 
clared that he had been married, and had an heir to his estate : 
the woman he married was commonly called, or known, by the 



392 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

name of Roughhead : she was poor and illiterate, and through 
motives of false shame, his lordship never acknowledged her 
as his wife : she has been dead sometime since, and left be- 
hind her a son called Robin Roughhead : now this said Robin 
is the legal heir to the estate. I have therefore sent you the 
necessary writings to put him into immediate possession, ac- 
cording to his lordship's last will and testament. Yours to 
command, Kit Codicil, Attorney at Law." 

Rob. What ! — What all mine 1 the houses, the trees, the 
fields, the hedges, the ditches, the gates, the horses, the dogs, 
the cats, the cocks, and the hens, and the cows, and the bulls, 
and the pigs, and the — What ! are they all mine ? and I, Robin 
Roughhead, am the rightful lord of all this estate ? Don't keep 
me a minute now, but tell me — is it so ? make haste, tell me 
— quick, quick ! 

Snacks. I repeat it, the whole estate is yours. 

Rob. Huzza! huzza! (Catches off Snacks hat and wig.) 
Set the bells a ringing ; set the ale a running ; set — Go get my 
hat full of guineas to make a scramble with ; call all the ten- 
ants together. I'll lower their rents — I'll — 

Snacks. I hope your lordship will do me the favor to — 

Rob. Why, that may be as it happens; I can't tell. 
(carelessly.) 

Snacks. Will your lordship dine at the castle to-day 1 

Rob. Yes. 

Snacks. What would your lordship choose for dinner ? 

Rob. Beef-steaks and onions, and plenty of 'em. 

Snacks. Beef-steaks and onions ! What a dish for a lord ! 
He'll be a savory bit for my daughter, though. (Aside.) 

Rob. What are you at there, Snacks'? Go, get me the 
guineas — make haste ; I'll have the scramble, and then I'll go 
to Dolly, and tell her the news. 

Snacks. Dolly ! pray, my lord, who's Dolly ? 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 393 

Bob. Why, Dolly is to be my lady, and your mistress, if 
I find you are honest enough to keep you in my employ. 

Snacks. He rather smokes me. (Aside.) I have a beau- 
teous daughter, who is allowed to be the very pink of per- 
fection. 

Bob. Hang your daughter ! I have got something else to 
think of; don't talk to me of your daughter ; stir your stumps, 
and get the money. 

Snacks. I am your lordship's most obsequious — zounds ! 
what a peer of the realm. (Aside and exit.) 

Bob. Ha ! ha ! ha ! What a work I will make in the vil- 
lage ! — work ! no, there shall be no such thing as work ; it 
shall be all play. Where shall I go ? I'll go to — no, I won't 
go there ; I'll go to Farmer Hedgestakes, and tell him — no, 
I'll not go there ; I'll go — I'll gp nowhere ; yes, I will ; I'll go 
everywhere ; I'll be neither here nor there, nor anywhere else. 
How pleased Dolly will be when she hears — 

{Enter villagers, shouting.) 
Dick, Tom, Jack, how are you, my lads ! Here's news for 
you ! Come, stand round, make a ring, and I'll make a bit of 
a speech to you. (They all get round him.) First of all, I 
suppose Snacks has told you that I am your landlord 1 

Vil. We are all glad of it. 

Bob. So am I ; and I'll make you all happy ; I'll lower all 
your rents. 

All. Huzza ! long live Lord Robin ! 

Bob. You shan't pay no rent at all. 

All. Huzza ! huzza ! long live Lord Robin ! 

Bob. I'll have no poor people in the parish, for I'll make 
'em all rich ; I'll have no widows, for I'll marry 'em all. ( Vil- 
lagers shout.) I'll have no orphan children, for I'll father 'em 
all myself; and if that's not doing as a lord should do, then I 
say I know nothing about the matter — that's all. 

All. Huzza ! huzza ! 

Q* 



394 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

{Enter Snacks.) 

Snacks. I have brought your lordship the money. ' He 
means to make 'em fly, so I have taken care the guineas shall 
be all light. (Aside.) 

Hob. Now, then, young and old, great and small, little and 
tall, merry men all, here's among you. ( Throws the money ; 
they scramble.) Now you've got your pockets filled, come to 
the castle, and I'll fill all your mouths for you. (Villagers 
carry him off, shouting. SnacJcs follows.) 



LESSON L. 

OLLAPOD SIR JOHN CROPLAND. 



Ollapod. Sir John, I have the honor to be your slave. 
Hope your health is good. Been a hard winter here ; sore 
throats were plenty — so were woodcocks. Flushed four 
couple, one morning in a half-mile walk from our town, to cure 
Mrs. Quarles of a quinsy. May coming on soon, Sir John. 
Hope you come to sojourn. Shouldn't be always on the 
wing — that's being too flighty. Do you take, good sir, do 
you take ? 

Sir John. Oh, yes, I take. But by the cockade in your 
hat, Ollapod, you have added lately, it seems, to your avoca- 
tions. 

Olla. My dear Sir John, I have now the honor to be 
cornet in the volunteer association corps of our town. It fell 
out unexpected — pop on a sudden, like the going-off of a field- 
piece, or an alderman in an apoplexy. 

Sir J. Explain. 

Olla. Happening to be at home — rainy day — no going out 
to sport, blister, shoot, nor bleed — was busy behind the counter. 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 395 

You know my shop, Sir John — Galen's head over the door — 
new-gilt him last week, by the by — looks as fresh as a pill. 

Sir J. Well, no more on that head now ; proceed. 

Olla. On that head ! That's very well, very well, indeed ! 
Thank you, good sir — I owe you one. Churchwarden Posh, 
of our town, being ill of an indigestion, from eating three 
pounds of measly pork, at a vestry dinner, I was making up a 
cathartic for the patient, when who should strut into the shop 
but Lieutenant Grains, the brewer — sleek as a dray-horse — in 
a smart scarlet jacket, tastily turned up with a rhubarb-colored 
lapel. I confess his figure struck me. I looked at him, as I 
was thumping the mortar, and felt intensely inoculated with a 
military ardor. 

Sir J. Inoculated ! I hope your ardor was of a very fa- 
vorable sort. 

Olla. Ha! ha! That's very well — very well, indeed! 
Thank you, good sir — I owe you one. We first talked of 
shooting — he knew my celebrity that way, Sir John. I told 
him, the day before, I had killed six brace of buds — I thumped 
on at the mortar. We then talked of physic — I told him, the 
day before, I had killed — lost, I mean — six brace of patients — 
I thumped on at the mortar, eyeing him all the while ; for he 
looked mighty flashy, to be sure ; and I felt an itching to be- 
long to the corps. The medical and military both deal in 
death, you know — so 'twas natural. Do you take, good sir — 
do you take 1 

Sir J. Take 1 oh, nobody can miss. 

Olla. He then talked of the corps itself; said it was sickly 
— and if a professional person would administer to the health 
of the association — dose the men, and drench the horse — he 
could, "perhaps, procure him a cornetcy. 

Sir J. Well, you jumped at the offer. 

Olla. Jumped ! I jumped over the counter — kicked down 
Churchwarden Posh's cathartic into the pocket of Lieutenant 



396 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Grain's smart scarlet jacket, tastily turned up with a rhubarb- 
colored lapel ; embraced him and his offer, and I am now Cor- 
net Ollapod, apothecary, at the Galen's Head, of the association 
corps of cavalry, at your service. 

Sir J. I wish you joy of your, appointment. You may 
now distill water for the shop, from the laurels you gather in 
the field. 

Olla. Water for — oh! laurel water. Come, that's very 
well, very well, indeed ! Thank you, good sir — I owe you 
one. Why, I fancy fame will follow, when the poison of a 
small mistake I made has ceased to operate. 

Sir J. A mistake ? 

Olla. Having to attend Lady Kitty Carbuncle on a grand 
field day, clapped a pint bottle of her ladyship's diet drink into 
one of my holsters ; intending to proceed to the patient, after 
the exercise was over. I reached the martial ground, and jal- 
aped — galloped, I mean — wheeled and flourished with great 
eclat; but when the word "fire" was given, meaning to pull 
out my pistol, in a horrible hurry, I presented, neck foremost, 
the villanous diet drink of Lady Kitty Carbuncle ; and the 
medicine being unfortunately fermented by the jolting of my 
horse, it forced out the cork with a prodigious pop, full in the 
face of my gallant commander. 

Sir J. A mistake, indeed ! — ha ! ha ! ha ! 



LESSON LI. 

PRINCE HENRY FALSTAFF. 

6HAKSPEARB. 

Prince Henry. Welcome Jack. Where hast thou been % 

Falstaff. A plague on all cowards, I say, and a vengeance, 

too ! marry, and amen ! {To an attendant.) Give me a cup 

of sack, boy. Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew nethersocks, 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 397 

and mend them and foot them, too. A plague on all cowards. 
Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant 1 ? 
[Brains the cup.) You rogue, here's lime in this sack, too. 
There is nothing but roguery to lie found in villainous man ! 
Yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it ; a 
villainous coward. Go thy ways, old Jack ; die when thou 
wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face 
of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There live not three 
good men unhanged in England ; and one of them is fat, and 
grown old — a bad world, I say ! A plague on all cowards, I 
say still ! 
• Henry. How now, wool-sack 1 what mutter you ? 

Fal. A king's son ! If I do not beat thee out of thy king- 
dom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee 
like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. 
You — Prince of Wales ! 

Henry. Why, what's the matter ? 

Fal. Are you not a coward 1 answer me that. 

Henry. Ye fat paunch, and ye call me coward, I '11 stab 
thee. 

Fal. I call thee coward 1 I'll see thee hanged ere I call 
thee coward : but I would give a thousand pound, I could run 
as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoul- 
ders, you care not who sees your back. Call you that, back- 
ing of your friends 1 A plague upon such backing ! give me 
them that will face me. Give me a cup of sack : I am a rogue, 
if I have drunk to-day. 

Henry. Oh villain ! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou 
drank st last. 

Fal. All's one for that. {He drinks.) A plague on all 
cowards, still say I ! 

Henry. What's the matter ? 

Fal. What's the matter 1 here be four of us have taken a 
thousand pound this morning. 



398 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Henry. Where is it, Jack ? where is it ? 

Fal. Where is it ? taken from us, it is : a hundred upon 
poor four of us. 

Henry. What, a hundred, man ? 

Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a dozen 
of them two hours together. I have escaped by miracle. I 
am eight times thrust through the doublet : four through the 
hose ; my buckler cut through and through ; my sword hacked 
like a handsaw, ecce signum. (Shows his sword.) I never 
dealt better since I was a man : all would not do. A plague 
on all cowards ! 

Henry. What, fought you with them all 1 

Fal. All % I know not what ye call all ; but, if I fought not 
with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish : if there were not 
two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then I am no two- 
legged creature. 

Henry. Pray heaven, you have not murdered some of 
them ! 

Fal. Nay, that's past praying for. I have peppered two 
of them : two I am sure, I have paid ; two rogues in buckram 
suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, 
call me a horse. Thou knowest my old ward. ( Talcing a po- 
sition for fighting.) Here I lay, and thus I bore my point. 
[Four rogues in buckram let drive at me — 

Henry. What, four ? thou saidst but two, even now. 

Fal. Four, Hal! I told thee four. These four came all 
a-front, and mainly thrust at me. I made no more ado, but 
took all their seven points in my target, thus. 

Henry. Seven ! why, there were but four, even now. 

Fal. In buckram. 

Henry. Ay, four in buckram suits. 

Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. Dost 
thou hear me, Hal ? 

Henry. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack. 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 399 

Fal. Do so, for it is worth listening to. These nine in 
buckram that I told thee of — 

Henry. So, two more already. 

Fal. Their points being broken, — began to give me ground ; 
but I followed me close, came in foot and hand, and with a 
thought, seven of the eleven I paid. 

Henry. Oh, monstrous ! eleven buckram men grown out 
of two ! 

Fal. But, as ill luck would have it, three misbegotten knaves, 
in Kendal green, came at my back, and let drive at me ; for 
it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand. 

Henry. These lies are like the father that begets them ; 
gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou knotty-pated 
fool ; thou greasy tallow-tub. 

Fal. What, art thou mad 1 art thou mad 1 is not the truth 
the truth % 

Henry. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Ken- 
dal green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand % 
Come, tell us your reason ; what sayst thou to this % Come, 
your reason, Jack, your reason. 

Fal. What, upon compulsion 1 — no. Were I at the strap 
pado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on 
compulsion. Give you a reason upon compulsion ! If reasons 
were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason 
upon compulsion. 

Henry. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin. This sanguine 
coward, this bed-presser, this horse- back breaker, this huge hill 
of flesh — 

Fal. Away, you starveling, you eel-skin, you dried neat's 
tongue, you stock-fish ! Oh, for breath to utter what is like 
thee ! you taylor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile 
standing tuck, — 

Henry. Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again ; and 
when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me 



400 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

speak but this : Poins and I saw you four set on four ; you 
bound them, and were masters of their wealth : mark now, how 
a plain tale shall put you down. Then did we two set on you 
four, and with a word, outfaced you from your prize, and have 
it, yea, can show it you here in the house. And, FalstafF, you 
carried your paunch away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, 
and roared for mercy, and still ran and roared, as ever I heard 
a bull-calf. What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou 
hast done, and then say it was in fight 1 What trick, what de- 
vice, what starting hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee 
from this open and apparent shame ? 

Fal. Ha ! ha ! ha ! D'ye think I did not know you, Hal? 
Why, hear ye, my master, was it for me to kill the heir ap- 
parent % should I turn upon the true prince 1 why, thou know- 
est I am as valiant as Hercules. But beware instinct ; the 
lion will not touch the true prince ; instinct is a great matter. 
I was a coward on instinct, I grant you ; and I shall think the 
better of myself and thee during my life ; I for a valiant lion, 
and thou for a true prince. But I am glad you have the 
money. Let us clap to the doors ; watch to-night, pray to- 
morrow. What ! shall we be merry % shall we have a play 
extempore % 

Henry. Content ! — and the argument shall be, thy running 
away. 

Fal. Ah ! no more of that, Hal. 



LESSON LII. 

DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. 

KBNNET. 



Jeremy Diddler. Tol lol de riddle lol — eh! (Looking 
through a glass at Sam.) The new waiter ! — a very clod, by 
my hopes ! an untutored clod. My clamorous stomach, be of 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 40a 

good cheer ! Young man, how d'ye do ? Step this way, will 
you 1 A novice, I perceive. And how d 'ye like your new 
line of life ? 

Sam. Why, very well, thank you. How do you like your 
old one? 

Did. (Aside.) Disastrous accents ! a Yorkshireman ! What 
is your name, my fine fellow % 

Sam. Sam. You need n't tell me yours — I know you, my 
fine fellow ! 

Did. (Aside.) Oh, fame ! fame ! you incorrigible gossip ! 
But nil desperandum — at him again ! ( To Sam.) A prepos- 
sessing physiognomy, open and ruddy, importing health and 
liberality. Excuse my glass, I'm short-sighted. You have the 
advantage of me in that respect. 

Sam. Yes, I can see as far as most folks. 

Did. (Turning away.) Well, I'll thank ye to — oh, Sam, 
you have n't got such a thing as a tenpence about you, have 
you? 

Sam. Yes — (They look at each other, Diddler expecting to 
receive it,) — and I mean to keep it about me, you see. 

Did. Oh — ay — certainly. I only asked for information. 

Sam. Hark ! there's the stage coach corned in. I must go 
and wait upon the passengers. You'd better ax some of them 
— mayhap, they mun gi' you a little better information. 

Did. Stop ! harkye, Sam ! you can get me some breakfast, 
first. I'm very sharp set, Sam ; you see I came a long walk 
from over the hills, and — 

Sam. Ay, and you see I come fra Yorkshire. 

Did. You do; your unsophisticated tongue declares it. 
Superior to vulgar prejudices, I honor you for it, for I'm sure 
you'll bring me my breakfast as soon as any other countryman. 

Sam. Ay ; well, what will you have 1 

Did. Anything ! — tea, coffee, an egg, and so forth. 

Sam. Well, now, one of us, you understand, in this trans- 

26 



402 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

action, mun have credit for a little while. That is, either I 
mun trust you for t' money, or you mun trust me for t' break- 
fast. Now, as you 're above vulgar preju-prejudizes, and seem 
to be vastly taken wi' me, and, as I am not so conceited as to 
be above 'em, and a'n't at all taken wi' you, you'd better give 
me the money, you see, and trust me for t' breakfast — he ! 
he! he! 

Did. What d'ye mean by that, Sam ? 

Sam. Or, mayhap, you'll say me a bon-mot. 

Did. Sir, you're getting impertinent. 

Sam. Oh ! what — you don't like the terms 1 Why, then, 
as you sometimes sing for your dinner, now you may whistle 
for your breakfast, you see : he ! he ! he ! 



LESSON LIII. 

THE LITTLE REBELS. 

ANONYMOUS. 

GENERAL HOW HIS AID SENTINEL — GEORGE — JAMES — BOYS. 

Scene 1 — Boston Common — A crowd of boys assembled near 
the skating pond. 

George. Here it is again, boys. The ice is all broken in 
by the red-coats. We shall have no fun to-day. 

James. I wish we were not boys. If I were big enough 
to carry a sword and a musket, I would drive 'em out of the 
land, faster than neighbor Tuft's dog ever went out of father's 
store. 

George. And what if we are boys ? I, for one, have no 
mind to bear this treatment any longer. 

All. Right, George, right ! 

James. But what can we do, boys % 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 403 

George. I '11 tell you. Form a line of march, and with 
drum, and fife, and colors, wait upon General Howe, at his tent, 
and tell him we will not be insulted by British soldiers, nor 
any other soldiers. 

All. Hurra! hurra! hurra! {Exeunt. A short pause, and 
then again ringing without.) Hurra ! hurra ! hurra ! 

Scene 2 — General Howe^s head-quarters — A sentinel pacing 
before the door, with a musket over his shoulder — Noise 
of fife and drum at a distance. 

Sentinel. What in the name of wonder can that be 1 Are 
they up in arms again in this rascally town 1 A troop of a 
hundred boys, as I live. An Indian painted on their flag, and 
no sign of the English cross. Oh, the land is full of rebellion. 
It is full of it, and running over. ( The boys halt in front of 
the tent, and George approaches the sentinel, with the standard 
in his hand.) 

George. Is General Howe at home ? 

Sentinel. Who are you? 

George. We are Boston boys, sir. 

Sentinel. And what do you want here 1 

George. We come for our rights ; and we wish to speak 
to the British general. 

Sentinel. The British general has better business than lis- 
tening to a parcel of ragamuffin little rebels ; I shall do none 
of your messages. 

George. As. you please, sir; but here we wait till we 
see General Howe. We will see him; and he shall do us 
justice. 

All. Hurra ! hurra ! hurra ! 

Sentinel. That, you little rascals, would be to hang you 
and your cowardly countrymen. I suppose you are making 
all this fuss about the little dirty pond on the common, that 



404 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

don't at the best hold water enough to fill a sizeable Dutch 
milk pan. 

All. Cowards, do you call us! Say it again, if you dare. 
[General Howe and one of his aids step out.) 

General. What is the matter here ? Why is this dis- 
turbance ? 

George. General Howe, we come to complain of the in- 
sults and the outrages of your soldiers. They break our kite 
strings, and ruin our skating pond, and steal our drums from 
us. We have spoken more than once, to no purpose ; and 
now we have come to say, that we cannot, and we will not en- 
dure it any longer. 

General. [Aside to his aid.) Good heavens ! liberty is in 
the very air, and the boys breathe it. {To the boys.) Go, my 
brave lads ; you have the word of General Howe that your 
sports shall never be disturbed again, without punishment to 
the offender. Does that satisfy you ? 

George. Yes, General Howe ; and in the name of my coun- 
try I present you thanks. 

General. No thanks; you are brave boys; you are En- 
glish boys ; I see plainly, you are English boys. 

All. No, sir: Yankees — Yankees — Yankee boys, sir. 
Hurra! hurra! {The drum strikes up, and the little band 
march off with flying colors.) 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 405 

LESSON LIV. 
Canute's reproof. 



Canute, King of England — Oswald, Offa, courtiers. 
Scene — The sea-side, near Southampton, the tide coming in, 

Canute. Is it true my friends, what you have so often told 
me, that I am the greatest of monarchs 1 

Offa. It is true, my liege ; you are the most powerful of 
all kings. 

Oswald. We are all your slaves ; we kiss the dust of your 
feet. 

Offa. Not only we, but even the elements, are your slaves. 
The land obeys you from shore to shore ; and the sea obeys 
you. 

Canute. Does the sea, with its loud, boisterous waves, 
obey me ? Will that terrible element be still at my bidding % 

Offa. Yes, the sea is yours ; it was made to bear your 
ships upon its bosom, and to pour the treasures of the world 
at your royal feet. It is boisterous to your enemies, but it 
knows you to be its sovereign. 

Canute. Is not the tide coming up % 

Oswald. Yes, my liege ; you may perceive the swell al- 
ready. 

Canute. Bring me a chair, then ; set it here upon the 
sands. 

Offa. Where the tide is coming up, my gracious lord 1 

Canute. Yes, set it just here. (Places himself in the 
chair.) 

Oswald. (Aside.) I wonder what he is going to do ! 

Offa. (Aside.) Surely he is not such a fool as to be- 
lieve U3 ! 



406 ELOCUTION AND ORATORY. 

Canute. O, mighty ocean ! thou art my subject ; my cour- 
tiers tell me so ; and it is thy bounden duty to obey me. Thus, 
then, I stretch my scepter over thee, and command thee to re- 
tire. Roll back thy swelling waves, nor let them presume to 
wet the feet of me, thy royal master. 

Oswald. [Aside.) I believe the sea will pay very little re- 
gard to his royal commands. 

Offa. See how fast the tide rises ! 

Oswald. The next wave will come up to the chair. It is 
folly to stay ; we shall be covered with salt water. 

Canute. Well, does the sea obey my commands ? If it 
be my subject, it is a very rebellious subject. See how it 
swells, and dashes the angry foam and salt spray over my sa- 
cred person. [Rises.) Vile sycophants ! did you think I was 
the dupe of your base lies'? — that I believed your abject flat- 
teries'? Know, there is only one being whom the sea will 
obey. He is sovereign of heaven and earth, king of kings, and 
Lord of lords. It is only he who can say to the ocean, — 
" Thus far shalt thou go, but no farther, and here shall thy 
proud waves be stayed." A king is but a man ; and man is 
but a worm. Shall a worm assume the power of the great 
God, and think the elements will obey him 1 Take away 
this crown, I will never wear it more. May kings learn to be 
humble from my example, and courtiers learn truth from your 
disgrace ! 



COMICAL AND MUSICAL. 407 

LESSON LV. 

CHOICE OF HOURS. 

JIBS. GILMAN. 

First Speaker. 
1. I love to walk at twilight, 
When sunset nobly dies, 
And see the parting splendor 
That lightens up the skies, 
And call up old remembrances 
Deep, dim as evening gloom, 
Or look to heaven's promises, 
Like star-light on a tomb. 

Second Speaker. 
1. 1 love the hour of darkness, 

When I give myself to sleep, 
And 1 think that holy angels 

Their watch around me keep. 
My dreams are light and happy, 

As I innocently lie, 
For my mother's kiss is on my cheek, 
And my father's step is nigh. 



THE END. 



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